


step outside (just to see if i can breathe)

by bluestrawberryiii



Series: Link and Alkei are on a road trip now I guess!! [1]
Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Complete, Enemies to Friends, Gen, Rehabilitated Yiga, SLIGHTLY darker than canon but not by much, did i see that tag out of context while wrangling and decide to write this on a whim? perhaps., discussion of/attempts at assassination, everyone aside from link and the yiga are only around for like one chapter! just a warning!!, i attempt selectively mute link! probably with mixed success, link and some yiga rando go on a road trip and become FRIENDS!!!!!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:48:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 26,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23799532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluestrawberryiii/pseuds/bluestrawberryiii
Summary: “Youforgot?How much? The Calamity?” A nod. “Your princess?” Another nod.“Everything?”He nodded again, shoulders hunched.The assassin sat back. This… complicated things. It shouldn’t have, of course. If he was just some amnesiac Hylian, there was nothing wrong with killing him and being done with it. And if he was the Hylian Champion, the sworn enemy of the Yiga Clan, it was his duty to kill him and present him to Master Kohga.Either way, this traveler was going to end up dead.He just needed to be sure of who he was killing.
Relationships: Link & Original Yiga Clan Character(s) (Legend of Zelda)
Series: Link and Alkei are on a road trip now I guess!! [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1840507
Comments: 118
Kudos: 213





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Link and an assassin fail to kill each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies in advance for all the epithets this chapter. they hurt to write and i promise im phasing them out as quickly as i can. but man.. writing's hard when your POV character 1. doesnt have a name and 2. doesnt really view the other protagonist as a Person™ yet. please bare with me im doing my best

Three days ago, ancient Sheikah Towers erupted from the ground all throughout Hyrule.

Two days ago, the assassin slipped from the Yiga Clan’s hideout and crossed the desert alone.

One day ago, he reached the foot of the Great Plateau, just in time to see someone leap from atop its high walls. The midday sun blinded him as he tried to track the figure’s slow glide downwards, but he knew who it was. After all, there was nothing up there.

Nothing except the Shrine of Resurrection.

Except the Champion.

He'd tracked him all night. Now he stood on the banks of the Squabble River, watching the dying tendrils of the Champion’s campfire as they struggled to rise above the canopy, only to be blown away by a wind off the hills. By now, birds were starting to sing. But the sun wouldn’t reach this particular copse of trees for another couple hours - not with the Dueling Peaks’ shadow looming over it.

He padded silently along the path, bow at the ready, trying to follow the smell of smoke. It was faint, now, after burning for a whole night, but he eventually tracked it to a cave just off the path. The Champion was sitting inside the entrance, staring blearily into the embers of his campfire and crunching halfheartedly on an apple. There was a sword at his hip - not _the_ sword, oddly enough, but a sword nonetheless.

There was no way he could get a clean shot at the Champion from outside the cave. But he couldn’t just walk inside either - not without getting in range of that sword.

His hand slid down to the pouch at his hip. He’d only grabbed a handful of Malice crystals when he left home - but what did he have them for, if not this moment?

He pulled a couple from the pouch, rolling them around in his hand. The crystals were black, though they glinted a sick, bruised red, as if constantly exposed to some unseen light. They felt oily to the touch, even through his gloves - like the sensation was more than just physical. Though that was probably to be expected, when one was dealing with concentrated calamitous energy.

One should be enough to teleport him inside the cave. And then a second one. Just in case.

He brought his hands together in the proper hand symbol to crush the first one, the crystal exploding into a dark, slick fog. In the split second before he was engulfed by it, he saw the Champion flinch and look around. Their eyes met.

And then he was in the cave, bow drawn, aimed at the Champion’s heart. The Champion jumped at the sudden sound, turning around and scrabbling for his sword. But it was too late - the assassin set his sights, loosed the arrow, and watched as it shot straight through…

...his shoulder. The Champion staggered, but recovered quickly, pulling out his sword and slashing the bow out of the assassin’s hand before he could nock another arrow. The second crystal fell with his bow, rolling into the shaggy grass until it was out of reach and out of sight.

Then his legs were kicked out from under him and he was on his back, pinned under the Champion’s knee, sword at his throat.

This was it, then. Years of training. Years of his clan serving Ganon, protecting him while he fought alone in that damned castle - fought for _them_ against those wretched Hylians. And now that it was his turn to do his part, he was going to die. He couldn’t decide if he wanted to look the Champion in the eye while he killed him or not. It wouldn’t make much of a difference either way - the mask shielded his face from view. But he wanted to be able to say he’d been brave in his final moments. Even if he would only ever be able to say it to himself.

Then pressure on his chest lifted.

The Champion stood, sheathing his sword. He moved over to where the assassin’s bow had fallen, picking it up and slinging it across his back.

“You’re… not going to kill me?”

The Champion shot him a bewildered look. He shook his head.

It was a good thing the mask hid the shock on the assassin’s face. This wasn’t right. He knew the stories - countless Yiga, dead at the Champion’s feet, all of them cut down with a single blow from his cursed sword. And yet this unimposing little squirt was refusing to kill him? “You... _are_ the Hylian Champion. Aren’t you?”

At that, his expression shuttered. His lips thinned to a white line. He looked like he was about to say something, but then he turned on his heel and stalked out of the cave.

It took a moment for the assassin to get back on his feet, but soon he was trotting after him. “You match his description,” he continued, long legs easily keeping pace once he caught up. “And you have that slate - the one with the uninverted eye. That’s ancient Sheikah technology, like what the princess was trying to use a hundred years ago.”

The Champion - unless he wasn’t, because he hadn’t taken the chance to kill him, and anyways he was so much shorter than he’d imagined from the stories - glared in his direction. He said nothing. But he did snap the shaft of the arrow sticking out of his shoulder. He gave the assassin a pointed look as he did so, dropping the shaft into the space between them.

“And you came from the Great Plateau,” he continued. “That’s where they brought the Champion’s body, you know. After he failed.”

The maybe-Champion huffed out an aggravated breath and picked up the pace.

“He didn’t talk either,” the assassin said, matching his stride. It was well known that the Champion never spoke to his victims, though the stories disagreed on why. Sometimes it was simple disdain. In others, he was ordered by his goddess to speak only to her, so that she could keep him in her thrall. Or there was Master Kohga’s favorite version, where the brave Master Dolren got close enough to cut out the Champion’s tongue before he was felled by a hundred palace guards. “Every time you refuse to answer me, you’re just confirming my suspicions.”

He thought for sure that would goad the probably-Champion into speaking, if only to deny his identity. But he kept on walking in silence. His gaze never stayed on one thing for too long, switching between the assassin, the lizals just off the bank, the bokoblin camp across the river, and then back to the assassin.

It would be easier just to kill him, he reasoned. But it bothered him that he didn’t know for sure who he was. Killing the Hylian Champion was certain to earn the assassin a name from Master Kohga. But killing a random Hylian and claiming it was the Champion would be a waste of everyone’s time. Especially Master Kohga’s time.

Generally speaking, it was a bad idea to waste Master Kohga’s time.

So until he could be sure, he was going to keep this traveler within reach.

Halfway through the Dueling Peaks canyon, the sun finally hit them, and with it came the murmur of the nearby stable as travelers woke up and began going about their day.

The assassin avoided stables, as a rule. There were too many Hylians, whose company he would find distasteful even if they didn’t have the tendency to try and run him off. He skulked on the outskirts of the stable while the almost-certainly-Champion went in, casting confused glances back at the assassin every couple steps when he didn't follow.

Travelers stared at the assassin as they passed by him. Some gave him a wide berth, while others strayed close enough to sneer at him. Every now and then, the stable master would give him a wary look, but he did nothing.

For hours, he watched as the Champion wandered aimlessly around the stable, getting the arrowhead pulled from his shoulder, helping to brush horses, or playing with the stable’s dog. He would look over to where the assassin stood sometimes. He always seemed disappointed to see him still there, leaning against a distant rock with his arms crossed.

The last straw was when he saw the probably-Champion start chatting - _chatting!_ \- with some Hylian woman at the cooking pot. The woman fled as the assassin approached, leaving the Champion looking after her, confused.

“So you do still have your tongue.”

The Champion jumped, turning to glare.

He took the spot recently vacated by the woman. There was some kind of soup bubbling in the pot, thick with milk and chunks of meat. It smelled wonderful.

“What is it, then?" the assassin demanded. "You’re just ignoring me? Is it your deal with the goddess? Or do you really just not talk to my kind?”

He looked more bewildered with each new question.

“You do know what I’m talking about, don’t you? Or did you just forget that you’ve killed hundreds of my clan?”

At the word “forget”, a strange expression came over the Champion’s face.

No. “You didn’t.”

The Champion shrugged and looked away.

“You _forgot?_ How much? The Calamity?” A nod. “Your princess?” Another nod. _“Everything?”_ He nodded again, shoulders hunched.

The assassin sat back. This… complicated things. It shouldn’t have, of course. If he was just some amnesiac Hylian, there was nothing wrong with killing him and being done with it. If he was the Hylian Champion, the sworn enemy of the Yiga Clan, it was his duty to kill him and present him to Master Kohga.

Either way, this traveler was going to end up dead.

He just needed to be sure of who he was killing.

“I’ll help you get your memories back,” he said.

The Champion looked up at him suspiciously.

“You can’t get rid of me anyways. Not unless you kill me.”

His hand strayed towards the sword at his hip, as if considering it. But he gave up on it halfway, instead sighing and grabbing a nearby ladle to stir the soup. He brought the ladle up to his lips, before frowning, adding some herbs from his pocket, and trying again. This time he smiled, just slightly, and grabbed two bowls from where they were sitting on the ground. He filled one and offered it to the assassin.

He hesitated before taking it, though of course he knew there was no danger. The bowl was pleasantly warm in his hands, and the steam smelled of fresh herbs and cream. He lifted his mask, just enough to uncover his mouth. If the Champion thought that a bribe would save him, he was sorely mistaken.

The soup was still good, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!!! :) ive been writing this instead of doing my remote classes so please pray for my grades


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some guy strikes up a friendly conversation and the assassin gets really stressed about it.

Half an hour later, the stable master kicked him out for scaring away travelers.

“You don’t have to go with him, Mister Link,” he heard the man say to the Champion. The Champion responded with something too soft to make out. The stable master nodded, looking over at the assassin. “...I see. Good luck on your travels, then. And be  _ safe,” _ he said meaningfully. “Kakariko should be just down that road. I would say you can’t miss it, but it’s notorious for getting travelers lost. Just take the bridge and stay on the road and you should be fine, alright kid?”

The Champion nodded and headed back to the assassin.

“Did he say Kakariko?” he asked, once they were out of earshot.

The Champion nodded.

“Can’t we skip it?”

He gave him an incredulous look.

“Ugh. Fine.” As they walked, he began the long, annoying process of undoing the distinctive red armor, considering for the third time that day how much easier this would all be if he had just killed the Champion.

The Champion watched with concealed interest as the assassin pulled off his breastplate and gloves, and detached the soles of the boots so he could invert them to their more neutral brown lining. He produced a simple linen shirt from a hidden pocket, and his companion’s eyes widened as if he’d pulled it from thin air. Last to go was the hood and mask, which he wrapped carefully inside the folds of his breastplate. The whole bundle fit neatly in his satchel. By the time he was done, he looked like any other Sheikah traveler.

Which wouldn’t have been a problem, if they weren’t going to the one place in the world that would recognize him as an outsider.

He pulled one of the Malice crystals from his pouch. Technically speaking, he wasn’t supposed to use them for this, but it wasn’t like the Champion was going to tell anyone. He ran the crystal through his snow-white hair, calamitous energy crackling along his scalp and settling under his skin. This wasn’t his favorite way to color his hair - it stung a little, and the few times he’d done it before he’d had horrifying dreams until it washed out - but he hadn’t expected to need more than the absolute basics for this trip. It would have to do.

“Any white left?” he asked, turning his head from side to side so the Champion could see.

The Champion shook his head.

“Perfect.”

They walked on in silence, passing a couple travelers on the way. A woman waved at the assassin. The Champion waved back for him.

Halfway up the mountain, the Champion made a noise. The assassin looked over to see him looking at him.

“Why didn’t you want to go?” the Champion said again, enough above a whisper now that the assassin could hear. His Hylian was strangely accented, softer around the vowels than it should have been.

This time, he didn’t have a mask to cover his surprise. But he got his face under control soon enough. So the Champion’s silence wasn’t a pact with his goddess either. That, or he’d forgotten the pact along with everything else. “The Sheikah Tribe is full of nothing but cowards,” he said. “My clan split with them centuries ago for their weakness.”

“And you still hate each other?”

“Of course. If those fools hadn’t destroyed their technology, we could have been the most powerful tribe in Hyrule. Instead, they gave in. Lessened themselves just to appease the Hylians’ fear.” He spat. “Pathetic.”

The Champion nodded in understanding, but said nothing more. It seemed he was done talking.

* * *

It was evening when they finally reached the village, passing underneath arched gates adorned with banners of the uninverted eye. Wood blocks were strung over the path, painted gold by the setting sun and clattering softly in the wind.

“Why are we here, again?” the assassin asked. There was an uneasiness crawling under his skin, being alone and unarmed in enemy territory.

The Champion shrugged. “I was told to see Impa.”

Of course. “And you just do everything you’re told, do you, Champion?”

His jaw clenched and he went quiet again.

“Do you even know where she is?”

The Champion didn’t answer. Instead, he made his way to an old woman sitting under a nearby tree. She was tending a fire, but looked up with a smile when she saw him approach.

“Ah! Welcome, travelers. How can I help you?” She pointed down the path. “If you need the inn, it’s just down the hill.”

“Actually,” the Champion said softly, “I need to see Impa.”

“Lady Impa, eh?” The old woman looked him up and down, before her eyes landed on the slate at his hip. “Oh…! I see. We have been waiting for you for a long time, Champion.” She leaned around the Champion to look at the assassin. “And who is your friend?”

The Champion turned around, clearly at a loss. “He’s…” He frowned.  _ What’s your name? _ he mouthed to the assassin.

He shook his head slightly. The Yiga Clan didn’t award its members names until they proved themselves worthy of a place in the clan’s history. Until the Champion was dead by his hand, he didn’t deserve a name.

The Champion’s face twisted in aggravation. “Alkei,” he finally said, turning back to the woman. “I met him on the road.”

“Well, any friend of the hero of legend is a friend of the Sheikah.” The old woman smiled warmly at the assassin. “Make yourself at home, Alkei. You boys will find Lady Impa’s house down the hill and to the right.”

He nodded curtly at her, following after the Champion. It was a short walk down to the village square; the whole place was pathetically small. But of course it was - the Sheikah were too afraid to leave the shadows, and too afraid to do anything from within them. Always had been, always would be.

There was only one guard on duty outside of Impa’s house. He was tall, and built like an accomplished swordsman.

“Stop,” he said when they got too close, hand resting on his sword. “What business do you have with Lady Impa at this hour?”

The Champion silently unlatched the slate from his belt, holding it out to the man.

His eyebrows raised, looking at the ancient slate with interest. “The Champion, huh? Lady Impa told me to expect you soon. Go on in.” He moved aside to let the Champion through. But when the assassin tried to follow, he held out a hand, blocking him. “You can stay outside with me,” he said. There was something in the way the man looked at him that he didn’t like; his eyes lingered too long on his hair, the satchel where he carried his armor.

“Fine by me.” The assassin crossed his arms, leaning back against the nearby fence.

The square was quiet. There were no travelers wandering around - of course not, with how hidden the Sheikah had made their village - and most of the villagers were in their own homes by now. A man walked around the perimeter, snuffing the lanterns lining the square one by one, until the only sources of light were the lanterns at Impa’s gate and the torches ringing the goddess statue in the pond across the way. It always amused him how invested her worshippers were in portraying her as kind and gentle. What was the point? Did they think a gentle goddess would save them from Ganon?

“It’s peaceful, isn’t it?” the guard asked.

He listened to the light tapping of the wood blocks strung over the square. The cricketsong in the grass and the wind in the leaves. The soft clucking of chickens. “You could say that.” It wasn’t home, but he’d been in worse places.

“Nothing like Karusa Valley, of course,” the guard said, as if echoing his thought.

The assassin stiffened. “Oh?”

“Sorry.” The guard laughed easily, as if he hadn’t just said the most alarming thing he possibly could have. “I forget that most people don’t know the desert that well.” He stuck out a hand. The assassin took it gingerly, as if it might bite. “Name’s Dorian,” the man said. “You got a name, kid?”

“Of course I do,” he lied. “It’s…” What had the Champion called him? Alkon? Alkai? “Alkei.”

“Alkei,” Dorian repeated. “Sounds like an old Sheikah name. Where did you say you were from, again?”

What was the Champion thinking giving him such a conspicuous name? “Akkala,” he said, hoping it was too far for Dorian to have traveled.

“Akkala!” he exclaimed. “Beautiful region.” Damn it. “Not as humid as it is here. Like I said, I grew up in the desert, so it was hard adjusting to Necluda’s climate. But I’d love to go back to Akkala one day.” He looked the assassin dead in the eye. “Now that I’m not with the Yiga Clan anymore.”

The assassin stifled a choking sound and schooled his face into a blank mask.

“Sorry. I must have given you quite a fright; I know how much trouble they cause for Hylians on the road like you.” He fixed the assassin with a look that said he wasn’t sorry at all. Then it was gone, and he gave the assassin another easy smile. “Rest assured, I left them many years ago.”

A deserter, then. “They couldn’t have taken that well,” he said. Did that betray too much knowledge? How much would an average Hylian know about the clan?

“They killed my wife for the betrayal.” His expression turned sad. All this emotion from a former member of the clan... Dorian really had been living among outsiders for far too long. “Maybe they thought they could make me come back, if they got rid of the person who finally got me to leave. But I was already too far out of their reach.

“The clan gets in your head, you know. It makes sure you don’t listen to anyone but Kohga. But I’d already made a life here. I had friends and family, and they helped keep me grounded.”

If he still had friends and family left, the assassin in charge of that mission had done their job wrong. Something to bring up once he got home, perhaps.

“That’s what you need, Alkei,” Dorian continued, placing a heavy hand on his shoulder like he was talking to an apprentice fresh out of training. “Good people to stand beside you. To keep you strong.”

Why was Dorian telling him this? He had to know what the assassin was. How did he know?

He shrugged the man’s hand off. “I have people.”

“I’m sure you do.” He smiled again, and he knew, somehow he  _ knew. _ “A young man from Akkala like yourself must have a wonderful family waiting for him back home. You’ll have to tell me about them - Oh!”

Dorian was interrupted by the soft creak of hinges as Impa’s door opened. The Champion slipped out, head down, rushing down the steps two at a time.

"Well, there's your friend," Dorian said. "I'll let you two get some rest. See you in the morning, Alkei."

The Champion walked past them without a word, and the assassin followed behind, grateful for an excuse to leave. “Did you remember anything?” Like the one thing that would allow him to finally kill him and get out of this horrible village and away from that deserter once and for all.

He said nothing. He pushed open the door to the inn, waking the man dozing behind the counter. They talked quietly for a moment before the Champion and the assassin were led to a side room. Beds lined the wall, but nobody was there. “You’re the first customers I’ve had this week,” the innkeeper explained. “You’ve got the whole inn to yourselves. Sleep well, you two. Call me if you need anything.”

The Champion murmured a quiet thank you and set his bag down on a corner bed, far away from the door.

The assassin pointedly dropped his bag on the bed right next to his. “You’re ignoring me, Champion.”

“Stop calling me that!” he snapped. Then, quieter, “I have a name.”

“Fine.  _ Link.” _ Just like from the stories. “What did you remember?”

“Nothing. Impa told me a lot but…” He hunched his shoulders. “But I don’t  _ remember _ any of it.”

He wished he could rattle the memories back into the Champion’s head.

Because he definitely was the Champion. Who else could he be? A random Hylian who just happened to be on the Great Plateau around the time the Sheikah Towers activated? Who just happened to have ancient Sheikah technology on him, who just  _ happened _ to be recognized by Impa, who had known the Champion a hundred years ago?  _ And _ his name was Link?

The assassin lay down, knowing that the coloring in his hair would leave oily stains on the pillowcase, watching his mark get ready for bed. He could end this right now. Grab the Champion’s sword out of his pack and cut him open right here in this quiet little inn in this quiet little town.

But this bed was much softer than the ground, or the cots they had back home. And it wasn’t like the Champion could run far. It was dark, and the assassin was a good tracker.

“Where did the name Alkei come from?” he asked instead, once the Champion had settled under the covers.

“Hm?”

“You told that old woman that was my name.”

“Oh.” He shifted so that he was facing the assassin. “I don’t know. It just came to me. I think it was someone I knew.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know,” he said again. His soft voice filled the desolate room. “All I have is the name.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The assassin spends two thousand words whining about being damp, and then he takes a bath. Some plot happens in between.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warning for., mentions of dead bodies? they're not actually present it's just the Concept of them bc the assassin is being The Way He Is, but i wanna warn people just in case!!

Dorian brought them breakfast himself, because of course he did: big, steaming bowls of pumpkin soup that Link tucked into like a starving animal and grilled carrots that sent a jolt of energy up the assassin’s spine.

“I didn’t mention it last night, but that’s a nice color you’ve got there, Alkei,” Dorian said, gesturing at the assassin’s hair. “What dye did you use?”

The Champion shot him a concerned look between mouthfuls.

“It’s my natural color,” he said, moving to block the dark stains all over his pillow.

“Really? It looks lighter than it did last night. Ah, well. Probably just the lighting, eh?” He chuckled heartily, as if enjoying a particularly good joke. Oh, if only the assassin had a knife. “Where are you boys planning on going after this?”

“Zora’s Domain,” Link said, moving on to the carrots.

“Better get ready for rain, then.” Dorian shot the assassin a sympathetic look, which the assassin ignored. “It’s been storming there ever since Vah Ruta went out of control. Though I suppose it’s probably your goal to fix that, eh?” He stood, patting Link on the back. “Well, I’ll let you get on your way. If you two are ever in the area again, please drop by. I know Lady Impa would love to see you again, Link. And Alkei!” He clapped a much-too-friendly hand on his shoulder. “You still need to tell me more about your family in Akkala! Maybe I’ll visit you all someday.”

The assassin forced a smile. “We’d love to have you.”

Dorian left the room, waving as he went.

The Champion waited until they were alone before asking. “Does he…?”

The assassin poured half of his soup into Link’s empty bowl, which he immediately tucked into. “Let’s just get out of here.”

* * *

When the hills by the road were low enough, they had a clear view of Hyrule Castle. It rose out of the land like a dark mountain, crimson ribbons of calamitous energy circling around it.

The Champion wouldn’t stop looking at it. He squinted at it, brows furrowing in concentration.

“Remembering something?” the assassin asked, hopefully.

“Sort of.” He strained to keep it in sight as they passed by a low hill, and nearly tripped over a rock for his efforts. “It’s… familiar, at least. But it doesn’t look right. That… the haze. I know I saw it happen; I can see the - the lightning, and the clouds.” His voice was thick with something, and the next words seemed to be a struggle to get out. “But I can’t remember what it looked like. Before.”

* * *

The Zora prince greeted them at the only bridge that led into the domain, assaulting them with effusive smiles and words too warm for the climate before sending them off to follow him through monster-infested roads.

“Can you believe that guy?” the assassin asked. He’d taken shelter under a nearby overhang, next to a lizal troop’s cooking pot.

Link dodged one of the lizals’ spears and parried another, sparing the assassin a quick look in between. “What, Sidon? What’s wrong with him?”

“What’s _wrong_ with him? Why can’t he just fix the damn Beast himself?”

“The Divine Beast needs to be hit with shock arrows to fix it, and Zora can’t use them.” He took a glancing blow on the shoulder and winced. “Weren’t you paying attention?”

He ignored him. “And he’s swimming along the river and _taunting_ us while we spend hours getting soaked.” He shivered, wet arms pressed against his wet shirt. The constant rain was making the Malice residue in his hair bleed all down his back and shoulders, the energy oily and crackling against his skin. “He could at least be helping.”

 _“ You_ could be helping,” Link pointed out. “Hylia knows they’ve dropped enough weapons.”

“Any servant of Ganon is my ally.”

“If they’re your allies, can’t you - ah!” One of the lizals knocked him to the ground with its tail, stabbing its spear at him. “Can’t you tell them to stand down?!”

“Not really.” He probably could, but it would be a pain to try to communicate the situation to these lizals, let alone every single other encampment they encountered on this stupid, wet road. Plus, if the Champion died here, that was the assassin’s mission taken care of. He could take the body and go home to the desert where it wasn’t always _raining._

Unfortunately, Link eventually managed to roll back to his feet and disarm one lizal, then the next. “Come on,” he said, already starting to run. “Before they get back up.”

The assassin mournfully tore himself away from the overhang, regretting it immediately. “Why don’t you just kill them?” he complained. At least then they could rest near one of their cooking fires. If that meant Sidon waiting in the river for a couple extra hours, all the better.

Link looked at him, confused. “I thought they were your allies.”

“They’re not yours, though.”

“I just don’t like killing things.”

“Is that right, _Champion?”_

Link’s lips pressed shut. He stalked up the hill, putting distance between them. The assassin let him go.

* * *

Sidon met them at the entrance to the city, smothering them both with another sharp-toothed smile. “Link! Alkei! I’m so glad you both made it! Come, I shall introduce you to the king.” He ushered them along the slippery metal walkway, Link in front, and the assassin trailing behind. As they walked, some Zora called out to Link, smiling and waving as if they knew him. Others shot him dirty looks, which he found himself hoping Link didn’t notice.

There was a statue in the circle below the throne room that Link couldn’t seem to look away from. His eyes tracked it as they walked up the stairs to the king’s chambers with the same kind of concentration he’d had while looking at the castle. The assassin watched Link’s feet; if he tripped again, he was going to send them all tumbling down the stairs with him.

“Who is that?” Link finally asked, halfway up. His voice was barely a whisper, almost drowned out by the rain.

Sidon paused, following his gaze. “That? Surely you remember my sister, Mipha.”

Link shook his head, and the assassin recognized the way his shoulders rose up slightly, the suddenly closed-off expression.

At the shocked look on Sidon’s face, the assassin stepped in. “He lost most of his memories,” he explained. “We’re trying to get them back.”

“I see!” Sidon gave Link an encouraging smile. “Well, Link. Once this is over, I promise to tell you whatever you wish to know about Mipha. Though, considering how close you were, I would not be surprised if you knew her better than I!” He chuckled, and Link gave him a small smile in return.

The assassin tried to wait outside the throne room when they got to it, but Sidon took his shoulder. “Nonsense! Any friend of Link’s is welcome. I am sure the king will be pleased to meet you.” And so he was steered onto the dais beside Link, stuck between Sidon on one side, a wrinkled, sour-looking Zora on the other, and the giant King Dorephan before them. The assassin was uncomfortably aware of how exposed he was like this. At least everyone was busy looking at Link instead.

As soon as he caught sight of the Champion, King Dorephan broke into a wide grin. This royal family was much too friendly for the assassin’s taste. “Link, my boy!” he said, his voice booming throughout the room and shaking the ground. “I had heard a terrible rumor that you had fallen in combat. And yet, you appear to have survived! You look just the same as the day I last saw you… why, it must have been at least a hundred years! I didn’t think Hylians lived that long.”

“They don’t,” the old Zora said, turning an acidic glare on Link. “How do we know you’re really the Hylian Champion?”

“Muzu,” the king chided. “Just look at him!”

“I’d like him to prove it, my liege. If he really is who he says he is, maybe he can finally explain why he let Lady Mipha die.”

“Muzu!” This time it was Sidon who spoke. “It is rude to speak that way to your king and his guest. Regardless of how you feel, Link has agreed to help us. I am of a mind to let him.”

Dorephan nodded. “As am I. Muzu, you know as well as we do that it is only a matter of time before the dam collapses.” He motioned with one of his massive claws, and a servant came forward with a folded blue bundle. It glinted softly in the low light as it was placed in Link’s arms.

At this, Muzu’s eyes went wide. “King Dorephan!” he exclaimed, fins quivering with rage. “Surely, you do not intend to give _him_ the armor Princess Mipha made with her own hands! That is only for her husband to wear!”

But Link didn’t seem to hear Muzu’s protests. He was running his fingers over each metal scale of the armor, lost in thought.

“Try it on,” Sidon said gently, softer than the assassin thought was possible for him.

He did, pulling it on over his worn shirt. It fit perfectly.

“You see, Muzu,” said Dorephan. “This is the man my daughter made her armor for.”

Muzu was shaking now, his old fingers curling and uncurling as if trying to decide whether or not to throw a punch. The assassin almost wished the old fish would try it. “I… I see,” he finally said. “I apologize. I will not stand in your way.” He turned, stalking out of the throne room.

The king sighed, a great gust of wind blowing past them. “You will have to forgive him. He was Mipha’s tutor. He loved her, just as much as any of us did. But his grief over her passing has turned bitter with time.” He nodded towards his son. “Sidon will help you get ready. I cannot express how grateful we are for your help.”

They were led down the stairs once again, and once again Link couldn’t tear his eyes away from the statue of Mipha. Halfway down the staircase, when they were at eye level with it, he stopped abruptly.

The assassin almost tripped over him. “What?” he asked.

At the sound of his voice, Sidon turned as well. “Are you alright, Link?”

He was still staring towards the statue, but it seemed as if he were staring at something completely different. “I…” His voice came out crackly and quiet. He ran a hand over the armor on his chest, absently. “I remember her.”

“You do?” Sidon asked, eagerly. The assassin leaned forward.

“We were… on Vah Ruta’s trunk. I’d gotten hurt.” He sniffed, but if there were tears, the rain made it impossible to tell. “...she was always so gentle.”

“That she was,” Sidon agreed, gazing at his sister’s statue with a fond smile. “Do you need a moment, Link?”

“I’m fine.” He swiped uselessly at his cheek and started walking again. “Let’s go.”

* * *

The assassin was left on the edge of the dam while Sidon ferried Link to the Divine Beast. It was the center of its own personal storm, spouting rain into the sky and endless streams of water into the reservoir. Water lapped at the edges of the reservoir's walkway, and the whole structure groaned beneath his feet as if ready to give way at a second’s notice.

It was Ganon’s energy powering that thing. If the Champion wrested control of the Beast back from Ganon, it meant a devastating loss for him.

But if the Champion failed, the water would keep coming, and coming, and odds were good that the dam would break and the assassin would die like this: cold and soaked and miserable. Besides, how would he ever salvage the body to bring to Master Kohga if the Champion died in a giant stone monster in the middle of a lake?

Selfishly, he hoped Link succeeded.

An eternity later, the rain stopped. Sidon came back soon after. Alone.

“How did it go?” the assassin asked, just barely masking the anxiousness jumping in his throat.

“Link did wonderfully! He stopped the water, and is now working to reclaim Vah Ruta from Ganon’s power. There is absolutely nothing to worry about, Alkei.”

He walked back to town with Sidon, the prince chatting all the way.

“Your shirt is oddly colored,” Sidon observed, once they were closer. “Is it a new fashion among Hylians?”

“I’m not a Hylian,” he snapped. “And no.” He peeled the drenched fabric slightly off his skin. It burned unpleasantly where the residue had washed off and congealed. “The rain ruined it.”

“Oh, Alkei! I am truly sorry to hear that. Come.” Sidon herded him towards the inn. “Kayden keeps a stock of fresh clothes for travelers like yourself. You would not imagine how many of you used to show up dripping wet, even before the rain. I am sure he will agree to lend you some while he gets those stains out.”

He’d like to see them try. But he let Sidon introduce him to the innkeep, who in turn introduced him to a warm tub.

“You can leave your clothes outside the door, Mister Alkei,” he said. “My wife will bring you some replacements for when you’re done.”

He nodded, pulling his shirt off and feeling the sticky tug of the congealed Malice as it tried to keep hold of his shirt and skin both. He folded the shirt separate from the rest of his clothes, keeping his belt and anything else that might identify him as Yiga in the room with him. The Yiga Clan hadn’t bothered Zora’s Domain since before the Calamity, but most of these people had been alive long before then. It never hurt to be careful.

He lowered himself into the bath, enjoying the way it turned from scalding to pleasantly warm as his body slowly adjusted. The Malice was a dark stain on his skin, and it leached from him like steeping tea. He sighed, dunking his head under the water and scrubbing the remains of color from his hair. It would be nice to actually enjoy the bath, but, the more stuff he scrubbed off his back, his shoulders, his chest, the darker the water got, shimmering pockets of sick reds and purples the color of a black eye floating along the surface.

As soon as he was sure he’d gotten as much off as he could, he stepped out of the tub. The water was clinging and viscous, sucking at his ankle as he pulled it out.

A towel had been hung on one of the walls, light blue and luxuriously fluffy. The remaining bath water left dark stains on it, turning it a dismal gray. He hoped it would wash out.

* * *

Link came back with the sun the next day. The whole city had stood on the railings in the dark hours of the morning, watching the hulking Divine Beast pass under the dam, its glowing blue veins of electricity lighting up the pitch black river as it made its way around the city and up to the top of the westmost mountain. The ray of light it shot towards Hyrule Castle lit up the sky, bright red against slowly lightening grey.

Alkei was on the bridge at the entrance to the city when the sun came up, turning all the walkways a shimmering white. And there was Link, shuffling slowly up the road. He had an arm pressed around his side and bruises along his cheek. A profound sense of relief flooded Alkei’s chest at the sight.

_You can still get him to Master Kohga._

He listed to the side, and Alkei rushed forward in time to prop him up.

“So. You did it, huh?”

“Yeah.” He stepped wrong and winced. “Sorry.”

“Losing one machine isn’t going to stop Ganon,” he said. Probably. “Come on, you should try one of their baths.”

Link chuckled, then winced again. “I’m sick of being wet.”

“I was too, but this is a different kind of wet. You’ll feel better.”

“Fine.” He gestured weakly. “Lead the way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reporter, ten years from now: megan! now that you're a quadrillionaire and also the world's most popular writer, tell us! what was the most difficult thing you've ever written?  
> me: well, ted, it was actually the time i had to write a chapter from the POV of a character that WASN'T as madly in love with prince sidon as i was


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys have a no good very bad night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING for the no good very bad night, which includes general violence and descriptions of like... the sensation of having a chemical burn (but no descriptions of what it Looks like). i dont think its too graphic but if thats something that freaks you out then please be warned!!

Walking out of Zora’s Domain was almost pleasant, now that the rain had stopped. Sidon had insisted they stick around for a couple days while Link healed and Alkei enjoyed the baths, but eventually they managed to say their goodbyes and get back onto the road.

“I’m surprised your fingers aren’t all wrinkled still,” Link said, kicking a rock along the sandbar. A white crab scuttled out of its path, and the rock landed with a soft _plunk_ in the water. “You spent more time in the water than you did out of it. Did you at least get that weird gunk off?”

“Enough of it.” There were still bruised stains on his back and shoulders that wouldn’t go away no matter how hard he scrubbed. “The rest should fade eventually.” Hopefully.

Not that getting rid of it had been the goal. He’d just never had a warm bath before.

“Where are we heading next?” he asked, leaning over Link’s shoulder as he pulled out his Sheikah Slate.

Link opened the map, humming quietly as he scrolled around it. “I know Death Mountain is close, but…” He looked over at the volcano: a dark smear on the bright sky, lit only by the streams of glowing orange lava trailing down its slopes.

“Agreed,” Alkei said.

“I was thinking Gerudo Desert. You said you were from there, right?”

Alarm tingled at the back of his neck. “I never said that.”

“Oh! I just assumed that… since you… and the… the rain...” His brow furrowed. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I thought that.”

“It’s alright.” Alkei calmed. He wanted Link to remember, of course. But… if he remembered the Yiga Clan, he might force a confrontation on his own. Better for it to be on Alkei’s terms. “The desert sounds nice, though. Better than a volcano.”

“And better than the mountains.” Link scrolled to the top left of the map, pointing out Rito Village. “Impa said that’s where the fourth one is.”

“Ugh.” Alkei shivered. “Much better than the mountains.”

Link gave him a small smile. “I thought you might feel that way. Come on. If we cut through Central Hyrule, it looks like we can get there in three more days.”

Three more days. The thought of it made him feel lightheaded with anticipation. In three days, Link would be delivering himself right into the arms of Master Kohga. Would simply getting the Champion to the desert be enough to claim responsibility? Or would he have to kill Link before then?

He followed along in silence. Link seemed not to mind.

* * *

The burning started around evening. It was subtle, at first, just an uncomfortable itch along his shoulders and down his spine that didn't seem to want to go away. It nagged at the back of his mind, constantly drawing his attention away from the road.

“How far is the Wetland Stable?” he asked. This was the path they’d taken on their way into Zora’s Domain too, but it looked different coming from the other direction, in the dark no less. And his back had been distracting him too much to look for landmarks.

“Shouldn’t be too long. Maybe -” He cut off, whipping around to squint suspiciously at something over Alkei’s shoulder. Alkei turned to look, shoulder twinging with fire as the skin stretched over his shoulder.

There was nothing there.

“What?” he asked, turning back to Link and trying to ignore how badly it hurt.

Link frowned. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” All he heard was the blood pounding in his ears.

“I… guess I imagined it.” He kept walking. “We should reach the stable in maybe half an hour. Then you can rest up.”

“Why would _I_ need to rest up?”

Link gave him a strange look. “You’re… tired. Aren’t you? You’ve been walking kind of slow.”

“I’m fine,” he snapped. He straightened his shoulders, fighting back the wave of nausea that rose in this throat when his skin shifted against the soft Zora shirt, and picked up the pace.

But then the moon came up, and things got worse.

It emerged from behind Death Mountain, rising swollen and blood-dimmed into the night sky, pulling at the stains on his skin like a tide that went out, out, out, only to crash back in with a vengeance.

The first time it happened, his vision blackened with pain. He must have made some sort of sound, because Link turned to face him. He said something, but Alkei couldn’t make it out.

“What?”

Link came closer, brow furrowed in concern. “Are you sure you’re alright? You look sick.” He pressed the back of his hand to Alkei’s forehead. He hadn’t realized how hot he was until he felt Link’s cool skin on his.

“I’m not sick,” he insisted, though his voice sounded strained even to his ears. He knocked Link’s hand away, immediately mourning the loss. “Let’s just get to the stable. It’s a blood moon. You shouldn’t be out here anyways.”

“A blood moon?” He looked up at the sky, where the moon was slouching along its path. “Is that why it’s red? I’ve never seen it like that before.”

For a moment, he almost asked what rock Link had been hiding under his whole life. But of course he knew exactly which rock. It’s just that his brain wasn’t _working_ right with all the _burning._ “It’s when Ganon’s power is at its height. Monsters come back, or are more aggressive, and -” Another wave hit him, and any train of thought he was following was obliterated.

“Don’t you serve Ganon? Why are you…”

“Perfectly fine?” he interrupted. He could make it for half an hour. In half an hour, he could rest in the stable’s bed, or go down to the nearby river and plunge himself in the freezing water and never come back up if only it would just _stop -_

He stumbled over nothing, and Link caught him by the arm. It twisted his shoulder in such a way that it jammed white-hot rods all under his skin. He bit down on his lip so hard it bled.

“Why are you being so weird about this?!” Link said, but it sounded so far away he almost didn’t catch it. “Just tell me what’s wrong! Are you sick? Or hurt, or…” He trailed off, and shifted some more, which _hurt,_ then swore under his breath. “Shit. I knew I heard something. We need to find a place for you to hide.”

“I’m not going to _run_ from -”

“No, you’re not,” Link agreed, though Alkei suspected he was agreeing in the wrong way. Somehow. If he could just get a grip, he might be able to -

Link shifted his grip so that Alkei’s arm was slung over his shoulder, with an arm sliding up to support Alkei’s back.

He didn’t black out from the contact - he _didn’t -_ but the next thing he knew, he was being leaned up against the rough bark of a tree, his companion murmuring a soft litany of “sorry, sorry, sorry”. It felt like his skin was bubbling, like it was a pot of boiling water, rolling and bursting and _burning_ and

A bow was placed in his hand. A Yiga bow. But they hadn’t met any Yiga on the way; where had Link gotten it from?

Right. Him. Link had gotten it from him.

“Don’t shoot unless you have to, okay?” Link slipped the quiver off his back, setting it on the ground nearby. He looked down the road again, and Alkei could just make out something approaching them. Moblins. Three of them. It was getting harder to keep his eyes focused, but they seemed close.

He tried to keep track of the fight, but his mind kept slipping back to the way the bark pressed against him, and why did it _hurt_ so much. This had never happened before. But then, he’d never had Malice stained onto his skin. On a blood moon, no less.

He’d always felt safer on blood moons. It was a reminder that he was on the winning side. That his power was Ganon’s power, and that power was vast.

And now that power felt like it was flaying him alive.

A horrible scream filled the air, and he held onto reality long enough to see one of the moblins fall to the ground. There was another, though. Its sword was raised too high, too close. And Link wasn’t looking at it.

He fumbled with the bow, trying not to think about the way that drawing the string forced him to move everything he wanted so desperately to ignore. Spots of pain danced across his vision, making aiming a difficult task at best.

The arrow loosed.

It whizzed past the moblin's ear.

But that distracted it long enough for Link to notice and cut it down. He turned, a "thank you" halfway out before it died on his lips. "Alkei!" he yelled instead, and it took a moment to figure out why.

A dark shape filled the corner of his vision, and he turned just in time to see the third moblin standing over him. It had a club, dark wood warped around dragon’s bone and swinging right for his head.

He scrambled back. He tried getting another arrow from the quiver, but moving his arm caused a stab of white pain to ripple all through him, and the arrow slipped through his fingers.

Something threw him aside. But it wasn’t the club. Alkei skidded along the grass and, one throbbing heartbeat later, there was a meaty impact where he’d been seconds before.

He didn’t see Link fall to the ground, but he heard it: a hard thud and a soft grunt.

Alkei tried to get up, because at least one of them was about to die. But pushing himself off the ground proved a monumental effort. His arms were shaking, and the sticky, burning, boiling pain made it hard to even breathe, let alone haul himself up.

When he finally did leave the ground, it was because the moblin had grabbed him by the head.

The Champion was injured. If he was smart, he would leave now, while the moblin was distracted. It was Alkei’s fault for being weak, after all. Even now, seconds from death, he still couldn’t pull his mind away from the seething, corrosive fire eating at his back. The moon was overhead now, bathing everything in crimson. The tide went out, out, out, and crashed back in, and he saw spots that had nothing to do with how tightly his skull was being gripped.

And then he was falling. And crumpling into the grass. And being hauled up again, despite the fact that every inch of burning skin screamed to be left alone.

“Sorry," said a familiar voice, and he realized he must have cried out.

“Why…” He ran out of breath almost as soon as he began. He tried again. “Why are you... still here.”

Link chuckled, though it was more of a wheeze. “You know I don’t die that easy,” he said, and that wasn’t what Alkei had meant but he didn’t have the energy to press anyways. “The stable isn’t too far. You’ll be okay.”

The walk to the stable was painfully slow, and he could tell Link was looking behind them from how often the shift of his arm against his back nearly knocked him to his knees. Eventually, though, he was laid face down on a bed, and the awful pressure of Link's arm on his burning skin finally ceased.

He felt weak. Pathetic. He'd never been a burden like this - unhelpful, maybe, but never dead weight who couldn't even shoot an arrow right. Allowing himself to be overpowered like this was inexcusable; he was lucky Link hadn't left him on the road like he should have done.

He would probably leave him now though.

Gentle voices murmured behind him, but he wasn’t able to make out what the words meant over the roaring in his ears. The burning pain waned with the moon, and he found himself slipping away just as the first rays of sun peeked through the stable doors.

* * *

Alkei’s head was pounding when he woke, and the bed was a puddle of sweat. Every muscle in his body felt tender at best… And his _throat._

He needed water.

It was a relief when he pushed himself off the bed and it only hurt a lot, like how a regular burn would hurt. His shirt was gone, replaced with layers upon layers of bandages that held some sort of cold salve against his skin. His arm was scraped up, and one of his eyes wouldn’t open all the way. But he would live.

Judging from the light, it was a little after noon, so it made sense that nobody was inside the stable. Even so, it was disheartening to see Link gone. Not that he’d expected any different. But now he had to go through the trouble of tracking him again.

That, or go back home. Empty handed. It hardly bore thinking about, having to explain to Master Kohga that he had not only snuck out without permission, but that he’d failed as well.

 _You’ll figure something out,_ he told himself, shuffling his way out of the stable. The light hurt after so long in the dark, and he squinted in pain as he walked down the hill to the riverbank. Even in the too-bright sun, Hyrule Castle loomed dark and foreboding in the distance. The sight of Ganon’s energy whirling around it sent a twinge down his back.

There was a nice spot on the bank where a wagon had collapsed long ago. Ivy crawled up the sides and its aging wood frame creaked in the breeze, but there was still enough canvas to shade him, and the hills across the river blotted the castle mostly from view. He knelt at the edge of the river, next to a patch of pink and yellow wildflowers, and let the river rush past him and pool in his hands. He raised the cold water to his lips, feeling it drip down his arms and chin in little rivulets.

Sitting there, it was easy to forget his pounding head. Birds were chirping brightly, and occasionally a fish would jump out of the water somewhere just upstream, falling back into the water with a splash. The breeze was lazy, sun-warmed and crisp, and every so often a leaf would float down the hill, drifting soundlessly onto the water’s surface. Idly, Alkei tracked one as the current carried it downstream. Last night, he recalled wanting to throw himself in this river. But now, he was content just to sit by it, watching the bass swim against the current and listening to the wind playing in the ivy growing on the fraying canvas above his head.

He didn’t have time for this.

He stood up, the abrupt motion scaring off some nearby bass and making his head swim. He’d had his water. Now he was going to track down the Champion.

It turned out, he didn’t have to go far. When he made his way up the hill, there was Link. He had just sat down at the cooking pot, humming softly as he pulled ingredients out of a satchel.

Alkei walked up to the pot, but it seemed Link didn’t notice him. “What are you doing here.”

Link jolted, then hissed and clutched an arm to his side. “You _have_ to stop doing that,” he said. “And I’m making soup.” He picked up a mushroom and began slicing it into the pot, as if to illustrate. “You’re hurt. You need to eat.”

“ _You’re_ hurt,” he shot back. “And that’s not what I meant. Why didn’t you leave?”

He started to speak, then paused, frowning. “I’m… confused. Did you want me to ditch you?”

“I would have.”

“I don’t think you would have ditched me,” he said tranquilly, moving on to peel the skin off a radish the size of his head. “Especially since you… Well...” He trailed off, seeming to consider his words, and then think better of them.

“Since I what.”

“Since you’re the one who’s following me,” he said, smiling, even though that was clearly not what he was going to say. “Now sit down and cut these mushrooms. I got some milk and salt from the stablemaster, but I have to pay him back by making enough for everyone.”

Alkei sat obediently, taking the mushroom and knife that were handed to him. There were bandages wrapped tight around Link’s right arm, but he couldn’t place what had caused it in his recollection of the night before. “What happened?” he asked, gesturing his knife at the bandages.

“Oh, this?” He shrugged - just the shoulder on his uninjured side - and went back to peeling his radish with practiced nonchalance. “It’s nothing. Some of the stuff on your back got through your shirt while I was carrying you here.”

“Oh.” He’d been too weak to work through a little pain, and Link had slowed down to keep pace. He’d been too weak to even nock a bow, and now Link was trying not to breathe too deeply lest he put pressure on his ribs. And if that weren’t enough, apparently Link had hurt himself just by trying to drag his sorry excuse for a traveling companion to safety.

None of this would have happened if he’d just left Alkei. That’s what you were supposed to do, after all. It was what weeded out the weak. If he couldn’t protect himself, he couldn’t protect the clan. And if he couldn’t protect the clan, then what use was he?

Perhaps it was just more weakness, but Alkei was glad Link didn’t understand this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i found the spot by the river while i was researching for this chapter and i was like "oh it is _absolutely_ time to pay this spot undue (yet thematically appropriate?) narrative attention." i highly recommend visiting it if youre ever at the wetland stable!!!! its really pretty ;v;


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The author delays her outline for the second chapter in a row, this time in favor of.. uh... (checks notes) eating dinner, apparently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warning for light descriptions of hunting an animal for the aforementioned dinner

Most of the next week was spent trying desperately to avoid Spoone, the doctor who had patched them up the night they’d stumbled in. Link hadn’t bothered to confiscate the bow again, and Alkei needed to practice. But the damned Hylian refused to leave him alone.

“It wouldn’t hurt like that if you didn’t go out of your way to draw the string all the way back,” he said, sitting on a rock beside Alkei.

Thankfully, he’d said it quietly enough that the boar Alkei was aiming at hadn’t heard. “It doesn’t hurt,” he lied. Actually, it hurt a good deal to keep the bow trained on his prey. But pain was no excuse for shoddy bowmanship. He needed to make sure he lined up his shot right, or else the boar might decide to fight back. And then he would be dealing with a lot worse than a couple of burns.

Spoone fiddled with his mustache. “I saw your back, kid. You have a great game face, but no one could ignore all that.”

The boar walked to another patch of grass, and Alkei trailed it with his bow. “Can’t you go bother someone else?”

“What, like your friend? He’s been following directions like a champ. Resting, avoiding strenuous activities, letting me change his bandages…” He trailed off quite pointedly at that last statement.

“Do you want dinner or not.”

“Let me change your bandages.”

“I can do it myself.”

“I know you won’t use the safflina salve.”

“Leave me alone.”

The boar moved again, just shy of a perfect target. But Spoone kept talking.

“You’ll feel better! If you just let me -”

“Shh!”

The boar’s ear twitched towards them.

“Just -”

“Fine!” Alkei finally hissed. “Fine! Just shut up!”

Having gotten what he wanted, Spoone obediently fell silent.

Alkei watched intently as the boar meandered here, and there, until finally it presented its side. He let loose the arrow and seconds later heard the gratifying  _ thud _ as it felled the beast in a single blow. It felt good to hit his mark true, after what seemed like ages. He quickly smothered the smile fighting its way onto his face.

Spoone, nuisance that he was, tried to argue that he should be the one to carry the boar back to the stable, since Alkei needed to be careful with his burns. Alkei told him that he was pushing his luck as it was, and slung the boar onto his back before Spoone could stop him.

The pain was excruciating, but it was a short walk to the stable. He was grateful when he finally handed it off to Quince, who always insisted on preparing the meat in exchange for the pelts.

Link gave him a look from his place at the cooking pot, where he had slices of mushroom and onion caramelizing on the bottom. “He let you do that?” he asked, looking from Spoone, to Alkei, to the boar.

“He’s letting me change his bandages,” Spoone said, a bit too cheerfully.

“Don’t you need to change Link’s first?” he asked hopefully.

Link stopped cutting up a potato long enough to raise up his right arm. “Already did it myself.”

“That’s my favorite patient!” Spoone said, ruffling Link’s hair. “Come on, Alkei! I have the salve all ready.”

“Of course you do,” he muttered, following him down to the river.

* * *

By the time Spoone was done with him, Quince had already gotten the meat ready and handed it off to Link. He sat on the other side of the pot, tossing scraps of meat to Satty and regaling Link with another tale of something or other that his dog had done. Link listened quietly, and much more patiently than Alkei had ever managed. Occasionally, Satty would wander over, placing his chin on Link’s leg and looking up at him with those big brown eyes. Link, of course, caved immediately, scratching the dog’s head and reaching into the pot to hand Satty a small piece of boar.

“You’ll spoil him,” Alkei mumbled, easing himself onto the bench next to Link. The bandages still pressed uncomfortably against the burn, but unfortunately the safflina salve was working just as well as Spoone had said it would.

Ami came up with a bundle of sticks in his little arms, setting them carefully next to the pot. "Like he isn't spoiled already," he grumbled, though there was no actual annoyance in his words. And when Satty nearly bowled him over trying to greet him, the kid just gave him a - very quick, very small - smile and a soft pat.

Quince laughed heartily. “My Satty? Spoiled?” He tossed Satty another scrap, which the dog happily snapped up. “Well, maybe so. But he deserves to be, after what he did for me! Did I ever tell you -”

“He saved you,” Ami grumbled. He’d crawled up onto the last bench, showing more interest in idly swinging his legs than anything Quince was saying. “We know.”

“Well, of course  _ you _ know. You live here! But I’ll bet these three would love to hear -”

“How he saved you from that thing on Satori Mountain?” Alkei completed dryly.

“Exactly! Yes! I... ah. So I have told you.” Alkei felt a twinge of guilt at the disappointed look that came over the man’s face. Just a small one, though. He’d heard the story at least twice now, and he was about as sick of it as Ami seemed to be.

Satty circled back around the pot, sitting with his flank pressed against Alkei’s leg. He reached down and patted the dog’s side. The fire crackled softly, and the glowing embers were beginning to cast flickering shadows in the quickly dwindling light.

“...but did I ever tell you about when he saved me from that lizalfos attack a week ago?”

Ami groaned, and Alkei just barely stopped himself from doing the same.

The rest of the stable’s residents filed in as the story went on. The stablemaster, Lawdon, was first. He brought enough freshly-washed bowls for everyone, and nodded patiently along with what must have been the third time he’d heard about this particular misadventure.

The stablehand Yolero was next, having spent the whole evening “training” instead of doing anything useful. Izra, another equally useless stablehand, appeared soon after. It was amazing to Alkei how consistently Izra was able to make himself scarce for a whole day, only to come back just in time to be the first in line for dinner.

Once everyone was served, they fell into the comfortable rhythm they normally did: Quince dominating a good half of the conversation, with Lawdon gently encouraging him to cede the spotlight every now and then. Spoone would occasionally offer a joke or insight, generally in response to Yolero’s boasting. Every so often, Ami would catch Alkei’s eye in the middle of a particularly tiresome piece of conversation and share a commiserating look. And though Lawdon disapproved of his son making dry comments at the expense of his guests, sometimes Alkei found himself giving the kid an encouraging nod. Just between them.

Izra, for his part, left as soon as he was done eating. He left with hardly a word, as he did every night.

Once Izra left, the other residents began to head inside one by one. Yolero left to get the horses ready to sleep, and Quince turned in once Satty started to look longingly towards the stable. Ami stayed longer than most, staring quietly into the embers. Finally, he yawned, giving Alkei a short nod - which Alkei returned - before slipping off the bench and heading for bed. Soon, the only people left were Alkei, Link, and Lawdon.

“It’s our night,” Link reminded Lawdon, kicking some dirt into the dying remnants of the fire to put it out. “You can go to bed.”

“If I let either of you carry this, Spoone will have my hide,” Lawdon responded matter-of-factly, hauling the cast iron cooking pot out of its metal frame. “I’ll handle it. You two take care of the bowls.”

“I could carry it,” Alkei protested, though he knew it would hurt terribly.

Lawdon gave him a beleaguered look and started walking down the hill to the river.

Link shifted next to Alkei, reaching down to grab the stack of bowls. He winced as his torso bent.

Alkei smacked his hand away. “Stop it. You’ll make your ribs worse, and Spoone will make us stay here another week.”

“Would that be  _ so _ bad?” Link asked, a smile tugging at his lips.

“If it meant hearing Quince tell the same three stories for seven more days? Yes.” He swiped up the stack of bowls before Link could go for them again. “I’m this close to giving him a run-in with the Yiga Clan just to expand his repertoire.”

Link grimaced. “I keep forgetting you still have the outfit.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“No, of course you would. It’s just…” He sighed, waving his hand vaguely. His brows were furrowed in the way they did when he was trying to remember something.

“Just what?”

“It made me… uneasy. When we first met. I don’t know.” He shrugged. “I’m so used to you looking normal that it’s hard to picture you in it now.”

“My uniform  _ is _ how I normally look.” It was still uncomfortable, living without the security of his breastplate, the comforting anonymity of the mask.

“Right. I guess so.” He eased himself off the bench. “Anyways. Are you going to let me help wash those?”

“Just be careful.” He followed Lawdon’s path down to the river, Link trailing behind.

Link snorted dismissively. “I know, I know. Spoone will get mad, we’ll hear Quince talk about the monster on Satori again. I get it.”

“Anyways, you have a desert to save.”

There was no reply, and Alkei knew he shouldn’t have brought it up.

Link took a while to respond. “...right,” he said. It was almost inaudible under the rushing water and the crickets hiding in the grass.

They washed the bowls in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its finals week which of course means that actually its time to write fanfiction instead of studying. im hoping to have this fic done by july though so!! hopefully no more super big gaps between updates!!
> 
> (also FUN FACT literally nobody has written about the npcs from the wetland stable besides me so i had to go in and canonize the character tags myself. and write spoones wiki page. life is hard when you arbitrarily decide youre gonna get really into some random group of npcs that nobody else in the damn world cares even a little bit about)
> 
> (also also you would never BELIEVE how i found spoone. i was running around trying to figure out who would have at least basic medical knowledge and then spoone just RIDES UP to me and announces hes a doctor and i nearly cried. thank you spoone i owe you my life)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Link remembers something! Nobody is happy about this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT/SPOILER WARNINGS!!  
> \- basically the exact location of a memory  
> \- quietly hands you the "discussion of/attempts at assassination" tag  
> \- brief descriptions of a nasty fantasy burn

“I don’t think you actually want to leave before everyone wakes up,” Link whispered. It was a week later, and Spoone had left for Riverside Stable the day before, leaving them with a roll of extra bandages, a clay pot of salve, and instructions to look out for each other.

Alkei cast a wary glance around the dim room, but it didn’t look like anyone had woken up. He grabbed the salve from beneath his bed, wrapping it in the folds of his uniform for safekeeping. “It’s more efficient this way.”

“You won’t get to say goodbye.”

“That’s kind of the point. Why would I want to say goodbye to Quince, anyways? He would talk for hours before we could finally leave.”

“Quince isn’t the only person here.”

That was true enough.

“We’ll never see them again. What’s the point?”

Link didn’t respond at first. Alkei looked over to him, just to make sure his words hadn’t brought anything unpleasant to mind. But Link seemed normal. He was gazing at the other beds, a desolate look on his face.

“Do  _ you _ want to say goodbye?” Alkei asked softly.

His attention snapped back, and the look was gone. He shook his head, taking the sword belt from his bedpost and fastening it over his shoulder. “You’re right. We won’t see them again.” He made a final check of his bed, straightening the covers as he did so. “Ready?”

Alkei retrieved the last of his belongings. “Ready.”

They left as quietly as they could. Although Link’s stealth left something to be desired, they made it out of the stable without any trouble.

In fact, they got all the way to the bridge before Alkei caught the sound of running feet behind them. He swung around, Link turning soon after.

It was Ami.

He pulled to a stop in front of them, looking up at Alkei with an unreadable expression. Alkei said nothing, waiting for whatever Ami wanted. The silence spooled out for what seemed like ages, broken only by the quiet burble of the river and the birds’ waking chatter.

After a while, Link took a breath to say something. But Ami cut him off.

“You’re leaving,” he said.

“We’re leaving,” Alkei agreed.

The kid nodded. He rocked on his feet, looking out across the bridge, at the castle looming large and red in the distance, and the vague shadows of trees across the river. “I’ve always wanted to leave the stable,” he finally said.

“We can’t take you with us.”

“I know  _ that,”  _ he said, with such disdain that for a moment it felt like they were back at the cooking pot, warm bowls in hand and listening to a particularly idiotic flight of fancy from Yolero. But then Ami’s voice turned solemn again. He would almost have called it pleading, if Alkei hadn’t known him better. “Just tell me about it.”

Alkei furrowed his brow. “Tell you about what?”

“I dunno.” Ami shrugged, waving his hand vaguely to encompass everything across the bridge. “Come back and tell me what you see.”

His eyes flicked briefly to Link. “We might not be able to come back,” he said, carefully.

It was like the kid deflated. “Oh,” he said, so soft it was almost inaudible. Then he pulled himself together, looking Alkei defiantly in the eye. “I knew that. Be safe.”

He turned on his heel and started to walk back to the stable. Alkei’s mouth opened, as if to say something. But he couldn’t think of anything, so he set his jaw and turned towards the bridge. “Come on,” he said to Link. “Let’s go.”

For a moment, Link just stood there. “...hang on,” he said. Then, louder, “Ami!”

Hesitantly, Ami stopped. He didn’t turn entirely, watching Link with doubtful eyes as he knelt down next to the child and began rummaging in his bag.

Finally, he pulled out what he was looking for. “This is a shell from Zora’s Domain,” he explained. It was nearly the size of Ami’s head, spiked and smooth and a lovely pale pink. “We found it in the royal swimming chambers of King Dorephan himself.”

With each word, Ami’s eyes grew wider and wider, until they were round as the moon. “You’re not lying?”

Link scoffed in mock offense. “To you? Never. You’d figure it out in a second.” He raised his voice slightly. “Wouldn’t he, Alkei?”

Alkei startled. “Y-yeah.” He knew he should say more, but nothing came to mind.

“You know how shy he is,” Link said, turning back to Ami with a conspiratorial smile. “But Alkei was the one who said I should give it to you. To remember us by.”

Ami’s fingers curled tightly around the shell. He looked up at Alkei, and Alkei looked down at the ground.

Then Ami was running up to him and wrapping his arms around Alkei’s legs. The shell pressed uncomfortably into his thigh, and something that felt suspiciously like tears were soaking through his pants.

He looked to Link, panicked, but Link just shrugged. “Ah…” He patted the kid’s head. “It’s okay.” No, that sounded trite. Ami would see right through that. “We’ll come back if we can.”

Ami sniffed. “Promise?”

It felt awful lying, but he imagined it would feel even worse to tell the truth. “Promise.”

“...okay.” He stayed like that for a moment, face pressed into Alkei’s leg. When he pulled away, his cheeks were blotched pale and red. “Stick to the Hylia River,” he said, in that same tone of voice he always had when he gave travelers directions. “At least until you get to Riverside Stable. Okay? I’ve heard there’s Guardians all over Central Hyrule.”

“We’ll do that.”

_ “Promise.” _

“I promise.”

Ami nodded, satisfied. “I’ll… see you later, then.”

“...yeah.”

They waved goodbye, Ami standing on the edge of the bank while Link and Alkei walked along the bridge, farther and farther until the darkness swallowed them from each others’ view.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Link asked, turning left at the fork in the road to follow the river, as per Ami’s instructions. The castle was a constant presence at Alkei’s back, but at least he didn’t have to look at it this way.

“I didn’t know your goddess let you lie to children,” Alkei said, instead of answering.

“It made him feel better.” Link shrugged. “What, does Ganon care about that kind of thing?”

Alkei scoffed. “Ganon has bigger concerns than what I say to a Hylian child.”

“Hm.” Link kicked a pebble down the road, watching it skitter down the gradually lightening path. “We’ll have to go back and visit him, you know. Now that you promised.”

“I said  _ if _ we could.” Even if Alkei did return, it wouldn’t be with Link. He didn’t want to think of how he would explain that.

“You know that’s not what he heard.”

He knew.

* * *

With morning came a thick cloud cover, blanketing the path in a muted, shadowless gloom. Rain fell, soft and constant: not enough to do anything about it, but still more than enough to be annoyed by.

As the hills sloped up to cradle the road, Link began looking around, squinting at the upcoming line of trees. “Did we come this way last time?”

Alkei shook his head. “We were on the other side of the river last time.”

Link  _ hmm _ ed softly. “Maybe I just remember seeing it.”

“Maybe.” Even though this path was almost entirely hidden from view by the hills on either side.

As soon as they entered the woods, Link started acting agitated. His hand strayed towards the sword strapped to his back every couple minutes, and he would jump at even the softest sounds coming from off the path. A couple times, Alkei caught him looking over his shoulder.

“What is  _ wrong _ with you?” Alkei finally asked.

“Doesn’t this place feel…” He looked around at the trees, as if the right word might be written there for him, then let out a frustrated noise. “I don’t  _ like _ it here. Aren’t you feeling this?”

Alkei stopped walking for a moment, considering. The rain was so quiet he couldn’t even hear it on the leaves. He didn’t hear  _ anything _ unusual - no shuffle of monsters, no whirring Guardian limbs. Just the normal sounds of wildlife rustling in the undergrowth. There were no odd smells, either. No blood, no metal, no fire. Nothing but wet soil and gently rotting leaves. A quick scan of the area revealed nothing out of the ordinary there either.

He shook his head, and Link sighed in equal parts relief and frustration. “I’ll keep an eye out, though,” he offered.

“Mmn.”

But the offer clearly hadn’t helped at all. He only got worse the farther in they went, checking corners before he turned them, looking back every couple seconds, peering into the foliage as if expecting to catch a glimpse of something.

“Link,” he said gently. “You’re going to drive me insane.”

“I  _ know, _ I know, I just…!” His hand fisted in his hair, aggravated. Then his gaze snagged upon something: a rock formation down the path, just like any of the other dozen they’d passed so far. “Hang on - I - I have to… Hang on.”

And then he took off down the road at full tilt, turning a bend before Alkei could even process what had happened.

Luckily, it didn’t take long to find him again. He’d stopped in the middle of the path, staring at nothing, his chest heaving, arm pressed against his side - because of course he’d managed to stress his ribs with a stunt like that.

“You better hope we don’t run into Spoone on the road,” Alkei said, trying to mask how unnerved he was by all this. “I’ll tell him  _ exactly _ how fast his ‘favorite patient’ ignored his orders.”

He didn’t move.

He stepped in front of Link, snapping at the space between his eyes. “Hey! Look at me.”

Link’s breath hitched, and his gaze came back into focus.

“Are you okay.”

A pause.

A nod.

“Are you going to tell me what that was about?”

There was another pause before he shook his head.

“Do you need to rest here?” he asked, despite wanting nothing more than to be out of this damned rain.

Thankfully, he was met with an emphatic shake of the head.

So they started walking.

The tension left Link’s shoulders soon after they left the trees behind, though he still wouldn’t say what had happened. He wouldn’t say anything, in fact. And, though Alkei couldn’t say why, he knew that could only mean one thing.

The smell as the hillside pulled away from the riverbank was what he noticed first: cloyingly sweet, yet acrid and biting, in a way that lodged itself in the back of Alkei’s throat and stuck - and it didn’t take long before he found the source. The whole hill was covered in bruised-red pools of Malice. Rainwater fell on the surface, gathering up into puddles before finally breaking and streaming down to the ground, leaving trails of greasy residue as the polluted water slowly sept into the earth. Giant white ribs broke from ruptures in the ground, the Malice oozing in and around them like a dire wound in the hill’s chest.

Link couldn’t take his eyes off of it as they passed by, frowning at it as if he was trying to strip it down to the bare rock.

“Do you remember it?” Alkei asked, trying to keep his tone as innocent as possible.

He flinched anyway. There was an excruciating moment before Link shook his head and pointedly tore his gaze away from the hillside.

It was a lie, of course. Link had looked at that hillside the same way he’d looked at Mipha’s statue. And after whatever had happened in the woods? Of course he remembered it.

A part of him was… hurt, almost, that Link was lying about it. Another part of him was fully aware of the circumstances under which they’d met. It was a miracle, he supposed, that Link had trusted him as far as he already had.

That didn’t change how strange it was to travel with him while he was like this.

He’d been fine with it before, of course. But after a week of easy conversation between them at the stable, going back to the old silence felt stony, now. Uncomfortable.

He tried again when they passed by Riverside Stable that afternoon.

“Should we drop in?” he asked. “Get some lunch?”

Link tossed him an apple from his bag.

“Or… Spoone? He said he was heading this way. Maybe he’s here.”

Instead of relenting like he thought Link might, he sped up.

“Those woods really bothered you, huh?” he asked, biting into the apple and trailing along behind him. He didn’t expect a response, and he didn’t get one.

Link set an unrelenting pace down the path, pushing harder than he’d ever done before. Alkei was fine with it - he’d been trained in endurance from a young age - but it did make him wonder why Link was in such a hurry all of a sudden.

The sun was going down when he decided he’d had enough. He grabbed Link’s shoulder, the momentum spinning him to face Alkei.

“Stop.”

Link - glared? His breathing was ragged, and a sheen of sweat misted his brow. Now that he’d stopped, he was leaning slightly to accommodate his ribs.

“You need to rest.”

Link shrugged off Alkei’s hand with - yes, that was definitely a glare. He hadn’t glared at Alkei since he’d… well, since he’d tried to kill him. What had Link remembered to make him act like this?

“It’s almost nightfall,” Alkei continued, shoving aside the questions he was dying to have answered. “I don’t know what the rush is, but you’ll just get lost if you keep going. Or attacked by monsters.”

That seemed to work. Link crumpled in front of his eyes, finally letting the strain of the day get to him. They made camp in a small wooded area just off the path, sheltered from prying eyes and dense enough that it would be hard for a monster to sneak up on them in the middle of the night.

Link was distant that evening, a strange mixture of bone-weary and looking longingly at the road every couple minutes. So Alkei built the fire himself and found a couple sticks to skewer mushrooms on for dinner, like he’d seen Link do a couple times. It took him almost using a poisonous mushroom from a nearby patch for Link to become more himself, silently confiscating the sticks and adding ingredients from his own bag until they had a real meal.

“You should let me help with your bandages,” Alkei said, pulling a chunk of Goron-spiced radish off the stick and popping it in his mouth.

Link looked pointedly at Alkei’s bag, where the salve was stored.

“I can do that myself. But Spoone specifically said you weren’t supposed to do your ribs on your own.”

Link huffed out an annoyed breath, but dutifully removed his tunic, gingerly unwinding his used bandages and rolling them up to wash later.

It would have been better if Link had washed himself before this, of course. The strain of pushing the way he had for so long - on dirt roads, no less - had made him less than pristine, and Alkei believed Spoone had described what he was about to do as “a hygienic nightmare” and “ill-advised at best”. But all they had was drinking water, and cleaner bandages were better than nothing. They could change them again tomorrow.

While he wound the bandages around Link’s waist, Link grabbed the pot of salve and worked on the burn on his forearm.

The first thing Alkei noticed was how awful it looked: warped and ridged, and a deep, sick purple color that he’d never seen in a burn before.

“Is that what my back looks like?” he wondered aloud. He’d caught glimpses, of course, but never anything more than an out-of-focus glance over his shoulder while changing his bandages.

Link jolted at the sudden question, as if pulled violently from a thought. He paused, halfway through wrapping the burn, thinking. Finally, he shook his head, though the grimace on his face told Alkei this wasn’t good news.

“Worse?”

He nodded.

“Hm,” Alkei said in response. It made sense, he supposed. He’d had it a lot worse. Both burns would scar up horribly - if given the chance - but he found that he wasn’t too concerned about it.

When they were done with him, Link gave Alkei an insistent look, gesturing for him to remove his shirt.

“I can do it myself,” he repeated, but all that earned him was an unimpressed sigh.

“Fine.” He pulled off the Zora shirt, feeling the way the burnt skin still pinched uncomfortably when he moved it too much. “But I’m taking first watch after. You need to sleep.”

Link rolled his eyes, but didn’t argue.

The salve went on painlessly; Link had a gentle touch that rivaled Spoone’s, and he could hardly feel the fingers rubbing cool safflina into his skin.

“I’ll do the bandages,” he said once Link was done, shooing him away. “Go to sleep.”

Link seemed about to protest, but a yawn stopped him in his tracks. Sighing, he gave up. He retrieved his bedroll from his bag, rolling it out and settling in without even bothering to take off his boots or belt.

Alkei watched the sparks jumping from the flames as Link’s breathing slowed to nearly nothing. What had he seen earlier in those woods? What had he remembered that made him stop talking again? Not just his normal silence, either, where he would still interact as much as he could without words. No, this was different. Link had spent most of the day lost in his own head and desperate for progress. Something had happened.

It was tempting to think that Link had remembered something about the Yiga Clan. That at least might have explained his short temper throughout the day. But if that was true, then why had Link allowed him to change his bandages? Why was he sleeping with his back turned, barely an arm’s length out of reach?

Then again: why did he lie about remembering something in the first place?

And what did any of that matter? he found himself asking. It shouldn’t have. Who cared if Link knew or didn’t know who Alkei was, or where he was from? The result would still be the same.

_ The result. _ Just the thought of it set a sick feeling clawing at his chest.

And at that feeling, he paused.

When he met Link, he’d told himself he would kill him as soon as he knew for sure that he was the Hylian Champion. And since then, he was proven to be the Champion again and again: in Kakariko Village, in Zora’s Domain, and in countless other ways that painted a picture he couldn’t ignore.

But then Link had suggested going to Gerudo Valley of his own free will, and Alkei had found another way to delay.

Because that’s what it was, wasn’t it? Delay. He just kept stalling and stalling and stalling, because he was too weak to do what he himself had determined to do. When the time came, would he even have presented the - alive, unharmed, damningly safe - Hylian Champion to Master Kohga?

He wasn’t sure if he would have.

And that scared him.

The solution was simple, of course. Now that he knew the reason for his constant delaying of the task, he could put it aside. He had a mission - one that he should have completed weeks ago. Before Vah Ruta.

But now was better than never.

From Link’s pack, he pulled the knife they often used for cutting food. Herbs and vegetables, mostly. And meat. It was no sword, but it would do the job quickly and quietly. Just like he’d been taught.

Link -  _ the Champion _ \- didn’t stir at his approach. He shifted slightly in his sleep, hands curled up against his face, breath coming soft and even.

At this angle, with this weapon, the throat was his best bet. He gripped the knife, positioning it to calculate the best effect.

And then the feeling was back, tearing away at him from the inside until he had to sit back and catch his breath. His throat was tied into knots and his hands shook with something he didn’t even dare to identify. Why couldn’t he do it? His whole life - generations of preparation - for this moment, and he couldn’t go through with it. And for  _ what? _

At least the last time, he’d had an excuse. The Champion was simply stronger than him. But now? Now, his opponent was asleep and still he was unable to do what needed to be done. How could that be seen as anything but the worst kind of weakness?

He dug through his bag and pulled out his uniform, carefully separating the salve from the bundle before unfurling it completely.

The breastplate, when he fastened it to his chest, was a comforting weight. And when he put on the mask, the familiar warmth of his own breath against his lips, curling against his nose, his cheeks, was steadying.

He could do this.

The assassin brandished his stolen knife once again, holding it over L - the Champion’s neck. The Champion’s throat moved slightly when he breathed, and the knife was so close that its blade fogged with every exhale.

He wouldn’t be breathing for much longer, though. He tried not to think too hard about it.

He swallowed down the bile rising in his throat. Took a steadying breath. Readied the knife.

A twig snapped somewhere behind him, and he stilled. Pulling the knife carefully away, he turned.

The dim light of the fire cast the rest of the woods in a pitch darkness, but he just barely caught the faint glint of a familiar sword: a windcleaver, long and rippling and letting off its own soft glow. Its wielder was still far enough away, but they were approaching much too quickly for comfort.

Before he could think, Alkei had two Malice crystals in his hand, crushing one for himself and one for Link and engulfing them both in that oily, crackling cloud.

They reappeared just beyond the trees on the other side of the road, with a soft sound that Alkei desperately hoped the blademaster hadn’t caught.

Link shifted on the ground beside him, groaning softly. He opened his eyes, blinking against the darkness. And when he propped himself up, turning towards Alkei, the panic that washed over his face was unlike anything Alkei had ever seen from him before. His hand clamped over Link’s mouth before he could make a noise, shoving him back onto the ground a bit rougher than he would have liked to.

“It’s me,” he hissed, pushing up the mask. “Okay? It’s  _ me.” _

Link nodded, though his eyes still sparked with confusion and alarm. Alkei removed his hand.

“We need to run. Before he comes after us.” He gestured towards their camp, which the blademaster had finally reached.

For a moment, Link looked as if he were about to say something. But then he set his mouth in a hard line and nodded.

They walked for the rest of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me (last chapter): no more long waits! :)  
> me (two weeks later, halfway through writing chapter eight): haha wouldnt it be funny if id just forgotten to post chapter si - OH SHIT
> 
> ALSO UPDATE cullach drew art inspired by this chapter!! [please go look at it!!!!!!](https://zolanort.tumblr.com/post/621763402320281600/alkei-from-step-outside-just-to-see-if-i-can)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys get a new traveling companion!

The walls ringing the Great Plateau grew ever taller as dawn washed across the sky in a bright, gentle stream. His head was fuzzy from lack of sleep, and the whole landscape seemed cast in a soft, bright haze.

Last time he’d been here, he’d been so sure of himself. A clean kill, there and back with his prize just like he’d been taught. He yearned for that single-mindedness now, staring at the back of Link’s head and knowing he could end it at any time, if only he had the will to. But he didn’t. He didn’t want to, and he had no idea what to do with that. What happened when they got to the desert? When they encountered Master Kohga? He would have to do _something,_ wouldn’t he? He couldn’t just do nothing.

...could he?

He’d already done nothing, though. When he deliberately didn’t stop Link from taking back Vah Ruta.

But what he was considering now was bigger than that, he was sure. Master Kohga would find out, somehow. And if not him, certainly Ganon would know.

His back itched, and he wondered: would Ganon even care?

And if he did care, would it matter? What could Ganon possibly do to him that he hadn’t already tried to do to Link? Link, who fought three moblins at once, who ran straight towards a Divine Beast and came away not only alive, but victorious.

Maybe, he thought, as his feet hit the overgrown cobble road and the morning sun beat warm and welcome against his back, sticking with Link wouldn’t be so bad.

Link stopped walking, and Alkei nearly ran into him.

“What is it?” he asked, words running together at the edges despite his best efforts.

Link nodded a little ways down the road, where a Hylian woman was running towards them. “Travelers!” she cried. “Please, I need help, I -” She stopped short when she saw Alkei. It was like she realized it the exact same time that he did:

They were both Yiga assassins.

It was the hair dye that he noticed - very distinctly chickaloo-based. Meanwhile, her eyes seemed to rove up and down, taking in the obviously clan-made boots and pants, before moving up to the shirt he’d gotten from Zora’s Domain, and then back down to the pack that carried his uniform, now bulging with extra traveling supplies that the bag wasn’t quite made to accommodate.

“Help with what?” Alkei asked, since he knew Link wasn’t up to talking at the moment. Not that he wanted him interacting with her anyways. He stepped forward before he even thought about what he was doing, partially blocking Link from her. Her expression showed no interest in this - but of course it didn’t. He felt silly for even expecting it. And now he was left wondering how badly he had just played his hand.

For a moment, the assassin was silent, and he could tell she was reworking her story. “My traveling companion!” she finally declared. “He left two days ago and never came back! I just _know_ he abandoned me!” Huge crocodile tears began to fall down her cheeks - the transition struck Alkei as artificial, but a quick look at Link told him that it had been good enough.

“Can we help?” Link asked, his voice low and crackling. It seemed like saying just that had taken a great deal of effort.

“We’re in a bit of a hurry,” Alkei tried to add, but Link glared at him and the assassin’s gaze turned towards him in a way that made his skin crawl.

Then she turned back to Link. “Oh! I wouldn’t want to impose. But…” She put a contemplative finger to her lips, which looked a bit out of place amidst the hysterical tears she was still shedding. It was obvious that she’d never had to keep up the charade this long. “Well... maybe I could travel with you two? Just until we get to a settlement. The roads are just so _scary_ with all those monsters these days,” she said. Maybe it was just because he knew how she really felt about monsters, but the sincerity in her voice curdled to sarcasm in his ears.

But Link simply nodded in assent, and Alkei didn’t dare argue, nervous that he might make the assassin any more suspicious than she must already be.

"We can drop you off at Outskirt Stable," he said instead, hoping to be rid of her before they got anywhere near the desert. “It’s just down the road.”

Her eyes flicked to him again, narrowing slightly. "Isn't that the one next to the old coliseum?" she cried. "Oh, please don't leave me there! I've heard there's all kinds of scary monsters! Please say you'll take me at least as far as the Canyon Stable!"

Short of attacking her, Alkei saw no graceful way out of this. "Canyon Stable it is," he said.

And so they earned another traveling companion. At first, she hummed cheerily as they passed the Outskirt Stable, the hollowed-out remains of a broken house, the suspension bridge. But soon after they entered the canyon pass she seemed to tire of the charade, falling blessedly quiet for the next couple of hours.

"You two look beat," she finally said, halfway along the pale, sandy road. "You should get some rest. There's a campsite a little ways away from here that I know of."

Link's eyes flicked warily to Alkei - the distrust in that brief look stung more than Alkei would have liked - then back to the assassin. He nodded, and let her lead them to a small spot nestled between three walls of rock. Link settled in almost immediately, picking the most defensible corner and jamming himself beneath the overhang, sword clutched in front of him, obviously ready to draw at the slightest disturbance.

"You should get some rest, too," the assassin said, making a show of getting comfortable at the rusted old cooking pot. "You look worse than he does."

He probably did. He hadn't gotten even the half night of sleep that Link had. It was frustrating that she could tell, though.

"I’ll keep watch with you," he said, seating himself across from her.

She made a noncommittal sound of acknowledgement, but said nothing else.

For a long time, she was silent. Her eyes stayed on Link, in a way that Alkei didn't care for.

"He's asleep," she finally announced, turning to hold Alkei with that same look. "Why are you still doing that with your face?"

"Doing…?"

The assassin pulled her face into a mock look, an overly-dramatic recreation of the kind of expression Link made when he was deep in thought: brows furrowed, lips pursed, eyes narrowed. "You were doing it to keep him in the dark, right? You don't have to keep it up."

"Oh. Right." He hadn't even noticed he was doing it. How much had he picked up on the road without realizing it?

“So, what’s the game here?” the assassin continued. “You’ve obviously been traveling with this Hylian for a while. And you didn’t want me to come with you two…” She propped her chin in her palm, a mock posture of concern that never reached her face. “One might think you were a deserter.”

That word - _deserter -_ gripped him like a fist, driving the air from him. He hadn’t thought about it before, but wasn’t that exactly what he was? Planning to avoid Master Kohga entirely, just to keep the Champion, their ancient enemy, safe looked a lot like desertion. “Oh, please,” he said, thankful that his voice came out even. “If I were a deserter, I would never dare come this close to the desert.” Which would have been true; if only he’d realized he was a coward _before_ they made their heading. If only he’d told Link _before_ this assassin showed up.

“So you’ve considered it,” she said.

“I don’t have to have considered it to know not to tempt Master Kohga,” he said, paying close attention to his expression in case his face tried to betray him again.

“Then tell me what you’re doing. Since we’re on the same side and all.” A light glinted in her eye. “He’s not important, is he? Maybe you thought you’d bring him all the way to Master Kohga by yourself. Earn yourself a name.” The assassin leaned back, stretching with deliberate casualness against her pack. “I wouldn’t bother. You look like you’ve been away for a while, so maybe you haven’t heard. But the Champion is rumored to be awake. Anyone less than him is unlikely to impress Master Kohga.” She looked meaningfully at Link. “Unless, of course…”

Adrenaline shot up his spine. “You think _he’s_ the Hylian Champion?” he said, perhaps a bit too quickly. “He’s tiny. And you know the stories: the Champion doesn’t speak.”

She waved dismissively. “It was hardly a full sentence. And what about that slate? The one with the uninverted eye. It looks old. Maybe even a hundred years old?”

“It’s a lot older than _that,”_ he said, desperately trying to think of how to salvage this. “He’s… a historian.”

“A historian.”

“A historian.”

“And how does... a _historian..._ help us? Just torture what you want out of him and leave whatever’s left on the road. We have more important things to deal with.” She shifted her bag, unlatching the top to pull out a sickle. “Unless you need someone else to do it?”

His hand itched for his bow, the knife, _something._ If it came to it, would he have to kill her? Would he be able to? “It’s not that simple.”

“Isn’t it?”

“No. He’s…” How was it not that simple? What use _was_ a Hylian historian? “He’s researching Sheikah technology. There’s something in the desert… the swordswomen! He thinks the swordswomen might have something to do with the Champion. He’ll outlive his usefulness eventually, but until then I need to make sure he doesn’t get himself killed.”

“Sounds like a long shot.”

It did, didn’t it. “It isn’t likely to earn me a name,” he said, at least glad that she seemed to be buying into his story. “But I have to put the good of the clan before my own pride. If this Hylian can help us track down the Champion, then we need to use him.”

For a moment, she said nothing, and Alkei was left to wonder if he’d pushed it too far, or if he’d misread her. Maybe she disagreed with his fictional plan and she was about to take matters into her own hands.

“Have you had to sleep in stables?” she asked instead, and he didn’t need to hear disgust in her voice to know it was there.

“For a week,” he said, knowing that she would read revulsion in his blank tone just as he had done for her. Even though the thought of Wetland Stable almost threatened to make him smile.

“A whole week surrounded by Hylians... You deserve a name just for that.” The assassin stood, packing away her sickle again and slinging the bag over her shoulder. “Well I, for one, plan to hunt down the Champion the old fashioned way. Have fun chasing statues all around the desert, I suppose.”

“Looking forward to it.”

She nodded and started walking, the sandstone arch blocking her from view almost immediately as she went back the way they’d come.

It only took a couple minutes afterwards for the adrenaline to wear off. With the assassin gone, he was once again aware of just how long he’d been awake, and the drowsy heat of the midday sun didn’t make things any better. The only thing keeping his eyes open was the threat that any moment the assassin might change her mind and come back.

But the temperature was just perfect, and the faint rush of wind in the dry desert grass was comforting, in a familiar sort of way - long nights spent training with Master Olri out in the open desert, with only grass and sand for company.

* * *

Next thing he knew, it was dark, and Link was sitting across from him at the now-lit cooking pot. He handed Alkei some roasted nuts, so fresh off the fire that he had to toss them from palm to palm before finally eating them.

Link gestured to the rest of the campsite - a vague question at best, but Alkei connected the dots quick enough.

“The woman?”

He nodded.

"She left on her own while you were asleep. How long have you been awake?" Alkei asked, a touch of guilt curling in his stomach.

Link pursed his lips, looking up to consider the sky - it must have been a couple hours after sunset, judging by the moon - and held up four fingers.

Which meant they'd been unprotected for about three hours.

"Sorry for falling asleep like that," he said. "I should've stayed awake."

Link shrugged dismissively and handed Alkei another couple nuts from the pot. As far as forgiveness went, it wasn't bad.

"What's on these?" he asked, holding a nut up to examine. "Honey?"

He nodded.

"They're good."

For a moment, a soft smile touched Link's lips. It was nice to see him acting closer to normal.

"Canyon Stable isn’t too far from here. Do you want to try and wait out the rest of the night in there? Maybe they’ll have a washbasin so we can clean up before changing our bandages."

Link popped a nut into his mouth, chewing slowly as he thought. Eventually, he nodded, standing and kicking sand over the fire until it went out, plunging them in darkness.

The canyon road was quiet this time of night. No people, no monsters, no crickets. Just boots crunching softly on the coarse yellow sand and the quiet shushing of a dry wind. Stars flowed between the canyon walls in a clear, shining river, and for just that moment, Alkei let himself revel in the feeling of being home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one goes out to the two whole people in the comments lobbying for an extra chapter. i just felt like i needed a liiiiiiittle more space before the end. because apparently every fic i write is cursed to be 20-50% longer than i initially planned for it to be


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alkei goes home! :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a warning that im playing calvinball with the layout of the yiga clan hideout because its MY fanfic and also bc the canon layout does NOT suit my purposes!!!! i drew some maps but i dunno if they help or just make everything worse so!!! [look at your own risk](https://imgur.com/a/epkTEZ8)
> 
> ALSO CONTENT WARNING for brief but relatively graphic descriptions of Bad Things happening to flesh later in the chapter

Alkei dragged Link out of bed before the sun came up, which did little to put him in his good graces.

“It’s better to travel while it’s cool,” he explained, voice dropped low so that he didn’t break the fragile stillness in the morning air as they made their way towards the mouth of the canyon.

Link crossed his arms and shivered in sullen protest, which Alkei supposed was fair.

The canyon ended in an abrupt drop. Alkei jumped down onto the sand, holding his hand out to Link.

He didn’t take it.

They walked on in silence, breath puffing up in the cold and then dissipating into the vast stretch of the desert. To the left of the path, far off in the distance, the sandstorm kicked up by Vah Naboris was still raging, just visible in the creeping dawn. He remembered the buzz all throughout Karusa Valley the day it appeared, the feeling that finally -  _ finally -  _ Ganon’s power was returning to its former glory. They’d stolen the Gerudo’s Thunder Helm soon after, just to make sure no one could get near the Beast. If he listened close, he could just make out its ambling footsteps reverberating across the dunes.

A hand fell on his shoulder, and he looked back at Link. He pointed towards the storm.

“That’s a sandstorm,” he said, hoping to end the conversation there.

Link gave him an unimpressed look. He paused for a moment, holding Alkei in place while he listened to the thudding in the distance. Every time Vah Naboris took another step, Link would tap in time on Alkei’s shoulder.

“...a sandstorm caused by Vah Naboris. You can’t get to it though,” he added quickly, seeing Link start to move in its direction. “It shoots lightning at anything that gets close.”

Link’s eyebrows rose. Maybe in alarm, maybe in interest.

“Let’s just get to those tents,” he said, swinging his hand in the general direction of Kara Kara Bazaar. “We can figure out what to do from there.”

Link gave a small shrug of assent, and they walked in silence, winding around dunes as the stars above them faded into morning.

They’d just gotten to the edge of the bazaar when Link stopped abruptly, suddenly looking at everything with intense focus.

“What is it?” Alkei asked, uncomfortably aware that the last time he’d had to ask that, it had ended in Link remembering something.

He followed Link as he stepped carefully around the edge of the oasis. For a moment, he entertained the thought of stopping him. But it felt wrong, so he did nothing.

Finally, Link stopped, looking out over the water with a sharp intake of breath.

And then he turned to Alkei.

The look in his eyes was almost venomous - all that anger and betrayal made Alkei want to look away. But he didn’t.

Link said something, too quiet to hear after so long spent in silence, but Alkei could see the shape of the words all the same: “I remember.”

“Remember what?” he asked, even though he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

“You said I’d killed hundreds of you,” he said. His voice was above a whisper now, low and thick with something dangerous that Alkei had never heard from Link, building in confidence the longer he spoke. “But you forgot to mention,” he spat, “that all of them were  _ assassins.” _

“I -”

“I thought there might be a good reason for attacking me. But there wasn’t, was there? Your clan spent years trying to kill me - to kill  _ her -  _ in the hopes that  _ maybe  _ some awful monster would reward you if you helped him destroy everyone else.” He fixed Alkei with a hard look. “You waited this long because you wanted me to remember, right? That’s why you came with me in the first place. Well, I remembered. So try it.”

His throat went dry. “Try what?”

Slowly, Link pulled his sword from its sheath, holding it in front of him as if ready to fight. “Kill me."

Alkei stared down the length of the sword in disbelief. A couple days ago - more like a couple weeks, if he was actually honest with himself - he would have jumped at the challenge. But now there was this awful, tight feeling in his chest, his throat, and he wanted nothing to do with any of this.

"...I'm not doing that," he said, hating how unsteady his voice was.

For a moment, Link considered him, hard eyes boring into Alkei’s. Then he lowered his sword. "I'm going to Gerudo Town. Don't follow me."

"They don't allow -"

"I know."

He sheathed the sword and stalked off. Alkei stayed where he was, watching him go.

How long would it take Link to find out he needed the Thunder Helm? How long until he found out where it was and decided to go there?

Normally, he would count on the Gerudo’s restriction on men entering the town, but Link had seemed confident enough that he didn’t want to bet on it. He probably had a day at most.

One day before Link walked right into a stronghold filled to the brim with trained killers who wanted him dead.

Unless, of course, Alkei beat him to it.

The sun would slow Link down, at least. He wasn’t used to traveling in the desert the way Alkei was; he just hoped Link didn’t push himself to heat exhaustion halfway there.

The journey wouldn’t be much easier for Alkei, obviously. The sun was making its way across the sky at an unfortunate rate, and he knew he couldn’t make it to Karusa Valley before it got truly hot.

He would just have to deal with it, he decided.

* * *

It was long past noon when he finally got to the entrance of Karusa Valley, the familiar pillars of rock sticking from the sands, red blocks of wood strung between them just like they had been in Kakariko Village. They clattered in the wind, but they were so high up that Alkei had to strain to hear them here. Before he visited Kakariko, he hadn’t even thought to listen for them.

He made his way to the edge of the valley wall, removing the Zora shirt and unwinding his sandy, sweat-soaked bandages. He inverted his boots back to their original red and fastened his breastplate into place - it chafed against his burn, but it wasn’t like he had time to re-apply the salve and get out fresh bandages. Last were the hood and mask, trapping the heat of his skin and his breath against him. The rest of the contents of his pack - the salve, an apple, some cooking supplies that Link couldn’t fit in his own bag - were secreted away in an alcove a little ways off from the mouth of the valley. With any luck, he would be coming back for them soon.

He felt along the side of the valley wall, searching for the hidden entrance. If he got here before Alkei could stop him, Link would have to go the long way - up the incline, past the rock traps and the guards. But Alkei knew the hidden way in.

It wasn’t marked in any intentional way, but the sandstone had taken on a darker quality over the generations, the calamitous energy of Malice crystals worming its way into the dry, porous sandstone and crouching there for centuries.

There were three crystals left in his pouch - not as many as he would have liked, but hopefully enough. He positioned himself against the dark spot, crushing one of the crystals and moving his hands into the proper position to guide the energy.

When he appeared on the other side of the wall, it was much too close for comfort. Any closer and he might have ended up trapped somewhere inside the layer of rock that separated this chamber from the valley outside. He wasn’t sure what had gone wrong - maybe his hand placement was sloppy? - but it was enough to make him wonder if leaving through the booby-trapped front was preferable to the potentially horrible death that might be waiting for him here.

But that was a problem for later. He could deal with that after he did something that actually necessitated an escape plan. For now, he needed to focus on getting to Master Kohga’s chambers undetected, stealing the Thunder Helm, and then walking out of the hideout without anyone noticing the giant golden helmet tucked under his arm.

It felt hopeless when he thought of it that way. But if he failed, then Link would likely die here. He wished he could convince himself that Ganon would lend him the power he needed. A week ago, it might have worked; but he doubted Ganon would take his side on this. He toyed with the idea of praying to Hylia, but he didn’t know the first thing about that. She probably wouldn’t be interested in helping someone like him anyways.

He would have to be enough on his own.

The corridors of the Yiga Clan compound were winding and disorienting by design, but Alkei knew them by heart. Every hallway, every false passage, every paper lamp casting warm yellow light along the corridors. He wound past the trainee barracks, then the apprentice barracks, and then the footsoldier barracks, where he’d slept ever since he earned his mask a year ago. The named barracks were a couple of turns away - though, oddly, he didn’t feel the same twist of longing he used to when he passed by it. All of the rooms were empty now, of course. Most of the footsoldiers should have been spread throughout Hyrule looking for Link by now, and the named soldiers would either be out looking with their apprentices or working with the trainees in the dojo.

That left the guard. There wouldn’t be any patrolling the barracks, but there was always a blademaster stationed outside Master Kohga’s quarters. It was the most secure room in the stronghold, which meant it was where most things of value were stored. Not that they had much use for valuables in general - luxury led to weakness, and weakness was unacceptable - but sometimes exceptions had to be made for cases like this.

Alkei stopped short of the bend that led to Master Kohga’s room. The guard stood quietly at attention, looking either nowhere or everywhere, for all Alkei could tell behind the mask.

He didn’t want to risk walking past the guard; even if they didn’t find it suspicious that he wasn’t where he was supposed to be, he would still be announcing his presence to them. The longer they remained unaware of him, the better.

The lantern on the other wall caught his eye. Underground as they were, it was a rule drilled into every trainee's head as soon as they could walk: do not disturb the lanterns. There were horror stories of trainees getting lost in the pitch black of the winding passages, not being found for days or - if they were unlucky - weeks.

He reached out and snuffed the light.

The entire corridor went dark. The blademaster, of course, didn't show any alarm. But they did grab one of the lanterns from its place above Master Kohga's door, heading down the corridor to relight the flame.

Alkei darted to the opposite side of the passage, watching as the blademaster made their way down the hall, turning away from Alkei to search out the darkened lantern.

He slipped around the corner, padding soundlessly down the corridor. The mask hid his breathing, as it was designed to do, and the soles of his shoes swallowed any noise he might make.

The door, when he got to it, was locked.

Obviously.

From down the corridor, Alkei could hear the blademaster walking again - they would turn the corner long before he could even think of picking the lock.

The crystal was hardly out of his pouch before he was crushing it, making the sign hastily and disappearing just as the blademaster turned the corner.

He reappeared in Master Kohga’s room. It was well-lit, much better than any of the barracks rooms that Alkei had slept in, with golden sconces holding sweet-smelling candles in regular intervals along the wall. Tapestries hung between them and ornate rugs covered the floor. The bed was bigger than any Alkei had seen, laden in plush blankets and too many soft pillows to count. The room practically rotted with opulence. It reminded him of the stories he’d been told of the Hylian royal family, of the unnecessary finery they hoarded to cover up their weakness. He’d never suspected the Yiga Clan might have their own hoard of finery hidden just down the hall from where he’d slept his whole life.

The Thunder Helm sat on a fine mahogany desk, holding down a stack of papers. Alkei might have expected a level of ceremony around the helmet, but it almost blended in with the rest of the room’s furnishings. He grabbed it, cursing its unwieldy heft and sharp edges.

Time to come up with an escape plan.

He had one crystal left, which meant he could still risk the hidden entrance and hope for a relatively clean getaway. As long as he could get around that guard. He hadn’t heard any commotion outside of the door: either the guard hadn’t noticed him and had returned to their post, or else this room was so well sound-proofed that they’d called for help and now had a dozen other guards waiting for him.

Once again, he wished he could at least pretend to have a higher power at his back. But no. It was just him. And if he wanted Link to live, just him was going to have to be enough.

He unbolted the lock as quietly as he could, sliding it open and standing ready in the space between the door and the wall. With any luck, the guard would enter the room to check, and Alkei could slip around the door and down the hall before they could notice anything was amiss.

There was no noise of shock or worry when the door opened, but soon he could hear the almost imperceptible tread of boots on sandstone. Alkei’s fingers tightened around the Thunder Helm, ready to run as soon as the blademaster was far enough into the room.

And then a shadow fell over him. The blademaster’s mask loomed bone-white above Alkei, the single inverted eye consuming his vision. A hand reached towards him - or the Helm, he wasn’t sure which.

Alkei disappeared in a cloud of concentrated Malice.

He reappeared on the other side of the door, hardly an arm’s-width away from where he’d been before. He pulled the door shut and ran, going as silently as he could while still sprinting faster than he ever had in his life.

What was the plan now? He couldn’t go out the regular way: he’d used his last crystal, and the clan’s supply had been hard enough to get to in the dead of night without a time limit - he took a sharp turn, heading away from the barracks. If he got far enough without the guard sounding the alarm, he might even be able to make it out the front entrance… as long as he remembered where the rock traps were and avoided the assassins stationed all down the valley.

It was the only way out, at this point. He would have to make it work.

He was on the slim staircase leading up to the storage area when he heard it: the piercing whistle meant to signal an intruder.

The other guards would be heading towards the whistle in no time, and Alkei was right in the middle of the only staircase down to the barracks. He took the steps three at a time, reaching the lip of the stairs and throwing himself behind a crate just as a footsoldier appeared right where he’d been seconds before.

More and more of them showed up, pouring down the stairs or stalking around the storage area. Maybe he could simply walk out of here? After all, he looked the same as everyone else. Aside from the stolen Thunder Helm clasped in his arms, of course.

“What’s that you have there?” asked a voice behind him, and it took everything in him not to jump out of his skin.

Alkei straightened, keeping the Thunder Helm as far out of the guard’s sight as he could.

The guard was a bit smaller than him, a sickle clutched in his hand. The way his arms were tensed, Alkei figured he had a couple seconds to get out of this before he slashed at him. Or alerted the other guards. Maybe both.

His fist shot out and caught the guard in the throat. He staggered back, choking silently, hand raised to his neck as if that might help him catch his breath. Alkei darted forward and snatched the pouch from the guard’s hip, not even bothering to check how many crystals were inside before he crushed one, willing himself to reappear as far away from the guard as possible.

He didn’t get as far as he would have liked.

When the cloud of Malice dissipated, he was in full view of at least three guards.

“The Thunder Helm!” one cried.

“Don’t let him get away!” said another.

There was no way past them by foot, and with the way the crystals were working for him at the moment, he would probably end up delivering himself right into one of their arms if he tried to teleport at this distance.

The shortest path out of the storage room was blocked by a soldier with a bow. He ran right at her, crushing a crystal a heartbeat before he would have collided with her. He appeared a couple steps behind her, hitting the ground running. The exit was so close. He reached into the pouch, hoping to close the distance quicker. An arrow whipped just past his ear, burying itself in the soft sandstone wall in front of him.

But clan-made bows never fired just one shot. The second arrow hit true, punching into the back of his shoulder, tearing through the protection of his breastplate, through warped scar tissue and straight into bone.

Even if the pain hadn’t been enough to make him stumble, the force of the impact sent him sprawling, the Thunder Helm clattering out of his grasp. His elbow hit the floor first, sending waves of pain up his arm and jarring against the arrow in his shoulder. He bit his lip to keep from crying out. Then his jaw hit the floor and he did much worse to his lip than that. Hot copper gushed against his teeth, filling his mouth and dripping onto the inside of his mask.

“Thought you could get past me, huh?” said the soldier with the bow, her voice deep and somehow familiar, though he was much too focused on his shredded lip to place much of anything at the moment. She planted a foot on his back, just underneath his wounded shoulder. Her hand rested on the fletched end of the arrow, pressing down on it.

She shifted forward, and he felt the tip of the arrow scrape against his bone. His breath hitched in his throat, soft and pained.

“Oh?” she said. Her weight shifted again as she lowered herself to the floor, pressing even harder into his back. “Did that hurt, traitor?” She moved the arrow in lazy circles, making his head swim with nausea. His erratic breathing was far beyond his control, but at least he managed not to make another sound.

And then she pulled the arrow out. The wickedly sharp barbs tore at him on their way out, so quick and brutal that he couldn’t stop the sharp gasp that escaped him. Blood crept down his side and along his shoulder, soaking into the fabric of his breastplate and sticking to his skin.

The guard let out a dry chuckle. “What are you, a little trainling?” Little trainling… She shifted again, and the burst of pain shattered the memory before he could even grasp it. “Any of my apprentices could endure worse.” The pressure on his back eased, only for her to wrench him to his feet by his injured arm. For a moment, his vision went black and his knees nearly gave out. “Take this deserter’s mask and toss him in the holding cell. Master Kohga will decide what to do with him.”

He was thrown forward and caught by a blademaster. “Of course, Master Olri.”

Olri. His old master.

The blademaster ripped off his mask. Olri was looking right at him. She had to recognize him, after years of training. He wished he could see her face. He wished she would speak, shift her stance,  _ something.  _ Was she surprised? Disappointed? Maybe she’d suspected he would falter all along, and this just confirmed all of her private suspicions.

But she said nothing. Indicated nothing. She turned from him as if she didn't even see him, waving at the blademaster to take him away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> writing this chapter was just me going "hah what an idiot that was such a bad idea... u..unless im the idiot for thinking of that??" for 3500 words
> 
> 7/7 UPDATE due to the fact that endings make me Nervous, the last chapter might be a little late!! sorry ;-;


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Link shows up! And then they [redacted for spoilers] and then Olri [redacted for spoilers] but Link [redacted for spoilers] and then [redacted for spoilers]! And then the fic ends!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM VERY SORRY FOR THE WAIT shoutout to Cocotoad for reminding me that i hadnt posted the end!!! this is what happens when i write ahead smh i just assume ive posted everything
> 
> there arent any outstanding content warnings for this chapter, except for stuff surrounding the injuries alkei got last chapter!

There was another prisoner in the cell, a Gerudo soldier that watched him intently from her place on the opposite wall. Her eyes had locked onto his uniform first, but for the last couple hours she’d been looking at his ruined lip, at the blood oozing thick and slow down his chin.

It bothered him, to say the least. He lifted his arm - ignoring the screaming pain from the arrow wound and the burning chafe of the breastplate against his warped skin - and gingerly wiped the blood away, trying not to press too hard near the places where he’d bitten through his lip. The material of his glove was rough against his skin, and it came away dark and sticky with his blood.

“Does it hurt?” the other prisoner asked.

Maybe he was just in a bad mood, but the question struck him as the most idiotic thing he’d ever heard. “No.”

“Aren’t you one of them?” she continued. “Can’t you just…” She closed and then opened her hands in a bursting motion. “...I don’t know, poof out of here like you guys always do?”

“If I were one of them,” he bit out, “they wouldn’t have put me in here, now would they?” All the “one”s and the “would”s were torture on his lip, but he tried to ignore it.

She fell silent. He thought maybe he’d stopped the conversation in its tracks - and thank goodness for it - but a couple minutes later she spoke up again.

“My name is Barta.”

“Good for you.”

“Do you have a name? I’ve heard the Yiga Clan doesn’t give -”

“I have a name,” he snapped. “...my friend gave it to me.”

“Huh. I don’t suppose your friend is going to come for you any time soon?”

“Not for me, no.”

“Shame.” She sighed, resting her chin on her knees. “I’m getting sick of waiting on your Master Kohga.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve been here for two days. The guards keep saying this Kohga will deal with me, but he’s never shown up. I’m starting to think he just forgot about me.” Barta snorted. “You’d never see this kind of oversight from Captain Teake.”

There was a part of Alkei that wanted to jump to Kohga’s defense. But he remembered Kohga’s room, drowning in the same riches he always condemned the Hylian royalty for having.

“Maybe he’ll remember,” he said instead. “Now that there’s two of us.”

“Ugh. I hope so.” She let her head fall back onto the wall. “I’m sick of bananas.”

“He might kill you, and you’re worried about food?”

Barta waved her hand dismissively. “He might kill me. He might not. That’s a problem for later. But right now I’d rather fight every single one of you than eat another banana.”

For some reason, that pulled a chuckle from him. He had to stop quickly, though, because the movement had disturbed the scabs that were trying and failing to form on his lip. He swiped away the blood before it could drip down his chin.

“I doubt I could even eat a banana right now,” he said. Just thinking about it made him realize how hungry he was. How late was it? Almost time for dinner, he imagined. He hadn’t eaten in hours.

“I wouldn’t want you to!” Her eyes scrunched up with distaste. “It’s bad enough looking at you as you are.”

“Then don’t look at me.”

“You look so awful I can’t _not_ look at you.”

It occurred to him, in a detached kind of way, that perhaps he hated Barta.

“So, what’d you do to get tossed in here by your own people?” Barta asked, either not noticing or simply ignoring his silence. “It had to be bad, considering the state you’re in.”

He didn’t respond. But apparently she suffered from the same affliction that Quince did, because she kept going anyways, content to listen to her own voice as she meandered from one topic to the next.

Was this how Link had felt that first day, he wondered? Shot through with an arrow and then forced to listen to some idiot who refused to shut up? It was awful. He let his eyes unfocus, staring into the space just over Barta’s shoulder and letting her voice fade to a dull drone.

* * *

Every muscle in his body was stiff when he woke up. So stiff that even the thought of turning towards the footsteps echoing up from the front entrance was unpleasant. They stopped just shy of the cell.

“Are you Barta?” said a familiar voice, and Alkei begrudgingly began the process of moving his body.

It hurt. His burn was acting up after so long trapped under the breastplate without salve, and every tiny shift sent awful, stabbing pain through his shoulder. But soon enough, he was upright.

“Your friends were worried about you,” Link continued, wedging his sword between the bars and pushing - which he knew he wasn’t supposed to be doing until his ribs were fully healed.

“They sent you?” Barta asked.

“Sort of.” He pushed again and the bar gave way. “Get out before the guards change shifts. I don’t know how long you have.”

Barta turned toward Alkei, holding out her hand. “Do you need help?”

It was only then that Link noticed him, pushed up against the darkest part of the wall. He stilled for a moment, looking at Alkei with confusion, then betrayal, and then confusion again.

Alkei knocked Barta’s hand aside. “I’m fine,” he said, pushing himself to his feet and ignoring the way his blood pounded in his ears the whole way up, the pain-hazed dizziness that came over him after he stood. He followed Barta out of the cell, but stopped before she could lead him down the stairs and out of the hideout.

Barta frowned down at him. “You can trust me, you know. I’ll get you to the bazaar.”

“I’m not leaving.”

“Alkei…” Link said, a tone of warning in his voice.

He ignored it. “The guards change every twenty minutes,” he said to Barta. “If you don’t get out before the next shift, you’re dead.”

She squinted at him. “And you wouldn’t be?”

“I know this place. Go.”

“I’ll bring more guards,” she promised, before sprinting down the steps.

Link watched her go. “You should leave too.”

“You need me here.”

He looked up at Alkei, annoyed. “Oh, do I? You can hardly stand.”

“Hardly standing is still standing. And unless you know where the Thunder Helm is, then yes, you need me.”

“How did you know -”

“You can’t get close to Vah Naboris without it, right?”

He scowled. Then he sighed, and his shoulders dropped in defeat. “Fine. But if you try anything…”

“I had weeks to try something. You’re still alive.”

“You shot me.”

He huffed in frustration. “Whatever. Come on.” He led Link down into the hideout. “And don’t stomp everywhere.”

Link glared at him. But he stepped lighter after that.

Alkei led the way through the top level of the hideout, dodging them around patrols with just enough finesse to earn his keep as a guide. This area wasn’t particularly secure, since it was assumed any unwelcome visitors would be taken care of on their way up the valley, or else stopped before they could run off with anything of value. And with most of the clan being spread throughout Hyrule looking for Link, the patrols were even more sparse than normal.

They came up the stairs that led to the storage area, through the entrance that Alkei had tried and failed to get to. And now he was going back the way he’d come. This room was generally unguarded, but he wanted to get through it quickly. Before the alarm went up.

There was a dark red smudge a few paces away, stark against the pale yellow floor. Apparently they hadn’t sent any trainees to clean it up yet.

Link followed his gaze. Looked up at his lip.

“Why were you in that cell?” he asked softly.

He didn’t want to talk about this. “I got caught.” He strode forward, heading for the set of stairs hidden at the other end of the room.

Link trotted after him. “Caught doing what?”

“Trying to leave.”

He peeked around one of the larger boxes, just in case there was a blademaster on their way to carve them up, before ghosting across an aisle. Link followed, though less gracefully.

“You know,” he said, crouching next to Alkei behind a crate. “Generally I’m the one not talking.”

The entrance to the staircase was only a few crates away. “We can both be bad at talking,” he said. “Come on.”

He got up to leave, but Link grabbed his wrist as he stood. There was hardly any strength in it, but it sent stabs of pain through the torn-apart skin of his shoulder all the same. His breath caught and Link let go of him quicker than a hot coal, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“What happened?”

“I got shot. Look, the guard will change any minute now, and we still have to get out after this -”

“Alkei, why did they shoot you? You went home, and they -”

“This isn’t my home!” The words burst from him before he could stop them. He forced himself back under control and tried again. “This... _can’t..._ be my home. Not anymore. They know I’m a deserter now. I didn’t want you coming here, so I stole the Thunder Helm. And then they shot me. And they’ll do a lot worse to you if they find out you’re the Champion, so can we please _go?”_

Link opened his mouth as if to say something, but it seemed that he couldn’t think of it. So he just nodded.

 _“Thank_ you.”

They took the stairs slowly, stopping just at the bottom.

“What time is it?” Alkei asked.

“Around midnight.”

He nodded. “We need to be fast, then. The barracks are just down the hall.” He gestured down a corridor that twisted out of sight almost immediately and Link frowned in confusion. “When they sound the alarm, they’ll all swarm these tunnels faster than we can get away.”

“So… we have, what, less than ten minutes to get the Helm and get out, otherwise we die?”

“Essentially.”

“And this is our plan?”

“Why, did you have a better idea?”

Link didn’t answer.

“That’s what I thought. Now follow me. There’s a guard we have to get past.”

He led them down the twisting, branching hall, explaining what Link had to do. They parted ways a couple forks away from Kohga’s room. “Go left,” he told Link. “Then straight, and then -”

“And then right. I remember.”

“And we can’t signal to each other, so you’ll have to move fast or else -”

“Alkei.” Link put a gentle hand on his uninjured shoulder and gave him a reassuring, albeit slightly nervous, smile. “I know. We can do this.”

“We can do this,” he repeated, mostly for himself. He took a deep breath. “Okay. I’ll see you soon.”

“See you soon.”

Alkei lost sight of him almost immediately. He hoped this worked. He hadn’t been enough last time; but maybe two of them would be.

He came upon the corridor he’d lured the last guard down. They’d been replaced by another blademaster - Alkei didn’t want to think about what had happened to the last one after they’d failed so soundly.

This one was leaning against the door, posture a little more relaxed than was proper. Apparently it had been a long night for her.

It was about to get a lot longer. He stepped out into the light, in plain view, and charged her.

She straightened, bringing her fingers up behind her mask to whistle. If Link wasn’t in position by now -

But he was. He appeared out of the corridor, sweeping her legs out from under her before she could make a sound.

While Link dealt with his job, Alkei rushed forward to pick the lock.

It turned out he didn’t need to.

“...it’s not locked.”

Link looked up from the limp guard, frowning. “That doesn’t seem right.”

“No, it doesn’t.” It couldn’t have been just a careless mistake, could it? Was it a trap? It shouldn’t be - nobody should know he was out yet, or that Link was here.

Alkei heard a noise and looked down at Link, who was stuffing the guard’s mouth with something he’d found in his pack. “What are you _doing_ with her?” he hissed.

“Making sure she can’t yell?” He undid her belt, fastening it around her arms.

“She’s _alive?”_

“She wasn’t attacking us! Did you _want_ me to -”

Alkei groaned. “I don’t care. Just stay out here and don’t make any noise. And grab the crystal pouch. We need them to get out.”

Link gave a thumbs up and Alkei slid through the door, careful to let as little light in as possible.

The room was pitch black, save for a single stick of incense, whose tip glowed a dull orange in the space where he remembered a bed stand being. It filled the room with a rich, soothing scent.

He couldn’t even hear Kohga’s breathing as he padded carefully across the room. His hope was that the Helm had been left on the same desk as before. Though, with how casually it seemed to have been placed, Alkei worried he would have to run his fingers over everything in the damn room until he stabbed himself on its sharp edges.

A noise outside caught his ear, and he swung towards it just as a fist connected with his jaw. He staggered back, heels catching the edge of a rug and sending him slamming back-first to the floor.

“You came back,” said a deep voice from above him. “I thought you might.”

A match was struck, dimly illuminating Master Olri, as well as the owl-eyed girl holding the match.

“How did you -” He struggled to push himself back up, but she kicked his elbow out from under him.

“One of the guards survived your… friend,” she said, and though it had no inflection, that short pause was so uncharacteristic of her that it all but dripped with disdain. “They reported back to me. Two incidents in the same day was too much to be a coincidence - I knew you were working together. So I asked Master Kohga to allow me use of his room.” She jerked her chin, and her apprentice rushed to open the door, yellow light spilling in and biting at Alkei’s eyes.

Two soldiers came in, Link struggling between them. “Alkei, are you - ah!” One of them twisted his arm behind his back, cutting him off.

Olri turned towards him, blank-faced mask staring down at him. “Alkei, hm? How presumptuous, to take a name you didn’t earn.

“We’re taking them to Master Kohga,” Olri continued, pulling Alkei to his feet and pressing savagely into his shoulder. He knew it was to keep him under control - exploiting weakness was one of the first things she’d taught him as an apprentice - but it was hard to do anything about it when his vision swam every time she moved.

The six of them walked down the halls. They were occasionally slowed down by Link tripping one of the soldiers on the stairs or briefly squirming free in the storage room, but they never stopped. And though the walk had seemed an eternity, when they finally arrived outside of the hearing chamber, it felt like it had been much too short.

Alkei had never seen the inside of the hearing chamber. Aside from the named soldiers acting as judges, the people who were called into the room hardly ever came back out. Once, when he was an apprentice, one of the boys that slept on the cot next to his got sent to the hearing chamber. He never learned what the boy had done. But, months after his disappearance, the other apprentices were still telling each other stories about what had happened, masking their fear with callous jokes and detachedly gory imaginings.

His legs locked at the threshold, but a rough jab into his shoulder got him walking again. The doors shut behind them with a heavy _thud._

The room was ringed in seats, blocked off by low crimson barriers and paper lanterns glowing yellow and red. It seemed that they were meant to hold other judges during a hearing; but they were empty now. In the center of the room was a dais, where he and Link were taken. Olri and the others stood in a loose semicircle on the level below them, blocking the door they’d come through.

Kohga stood waiting at the far end of the room, Thunder Helm held in one hand.

“Are these our thieves, Olri?”

“They are, Master Kohga.” She knelt down, bowing her head in deference. “One of them is a former apprentice of mine. I apologize for my failure, and am prepared to atone for it.”

“Rise, Olri. You have done your duty by bringing him to me.”

She stood. “Of course. You are most gracious, Master Kohga.”

“Indeed I am. Now.” He clapped his hands, the sound reverberating around the room. “I don’t believe we need to call a full hearing for the execution of a deserter and a Hylian. We can toss them into the pit and finally go back to sleep.”

Olri dipped her head. “Most wise, Master Kohga,” she said, the two soldiers and her apprentice echoing her words.

Alkei saw the two soldiers stepping up onto the dais and reaching for Link’s arm. He shoved himself into them just before they could grab him, sending both of them staggering off of the platform right before Olri pulled Alkei back. Link rushed forward, trying to get to Kohga.

“Stop.” Olri’s voice cut through the air. An arrowhead pressed uncomfortably into the hollow of Alkei’s throat. Link turned and froze long enough for the two soldiers to get to him. “Master Kohga. I understand that the Right of Punishment is revoked once an apprentice graduates. However, I would like permission to exercise it.”

Kohga paused, thinking. Alkei’s mind raced, failing to come up with any good way out of this. Link, for his part, couldn’t seem to choose between watching Olri or Kohga. Finally, Kohga spread his arms magnanimously. “Deserters are no longer protected under our laws. Do as you wish.”

The arrow head pressed slowly into his neck, until a trickle of blood was streaming down his throat.

“Wait!” Link yelled, straining against the soldiers holding him. “Wait!”

She pressed deeper, and Alkei screwed his eyes shut.

_“I’m the Champion!”_

That stilled Olri’s hand.

“I’m the Hylian Champion, and… and I challenge you to a duel.” He turned towards Kohga.

Kohga scoffed. “Why should I duel you? You’ve been bested by my underlings.”

“Are you scared you can’t beat me?” Link demanded, and Alkei’s chest seized with the foolishness of it all. “Can’t finish what your underlings started?”

This would end badly, Alkei already knew. He needed to do something - divert Kohga’s attention away from Link somehow. He tilted his chin up to avoid the arrow head as best he could, raising his voice. “Maybe hoarding all that treasure in your room made you we -” Olri pressed into his shoulder as a warning. “Made you weak,” he finished anyways, earning himself a harsh, bloody dig that knocked him to his knees.

For a moment, Kohga was silent. It hadn’t been the most calculated move, but had it at least worked? He couldn’t tell.

“It would be an honor,” Kohga finally decided. “To kill Lord Ganon’s greatest enemy with my own hands.”

“If I win, we go free,” Link said, looking back at Alkei with frantic eyes. “Both of us.”

“You won’t. But of course. _If_ you win, you can go free.” He snapped. “You two. Let him go. Olri, hold off on killing the deserter until after I get back.”

The arrowhead lowered. “Yes, Master.”

Kohga pressed a spot on the wall, the stone grinding and turning to reveal a large, circular arena ringed by snowy mountains. There was a deep pit in the center, yawning and dark.

Link was pushed into the arena. In the moment before the door closed behind him, he caught Alkei’s eye. He tried for another encouraging smile, but it fell short.

* * *

Waiting was torture. He needed to help, somehow, but there was no way. It would be a four-to-one fight if he were to make a break for it. And in his state, he felt closer to half a person than a full one.

He had no idea how long it had been when the door moved again. The entire room stilled; not one of them moved, or even breathed.

And, from the other side of the door, Link appeared.

“He’s hurt,” he said, gasping. “But you can still help him.”

All four soldiers rushed out the door. Link closed it on them.

“Is he actually…?”

Link shrugged, swiping up the Thunder Helm and dragging Alkei to his feet. “Who knows? That hole is really deep. Can you run?”

“My legs are fine.”

“Then we need to go. Before they decide not to keep Kohga’s promise.”

They shoved the heavy doors open. “Do you still have the crystals?” Alkei asked, running towards the stairs leading down to the barracks.

Link nodded, handing the pouch to him. “Isn’t that way the only way out?” he asked, pointing in the other direction.

“This is faster.”

They flew down the stairs, weaving through the twisting, winding halls of the barracks. “Get close to me,” Alkei said, getting the crystals ready as they barreled towards the hidden entrance.

“Alkei, that’s a _wall.”_

“Trust me. Just don’t stop running, okay?”

Link nodded, holding tight to the Thunder Helm and screwing his eyes shut to avoid looking at the wall.

Alkei crushed a handful of crystals just before they slammed into the rock, hoping that the extra energy would be enough to carry them to safety.

They reappeared amongst the stone pillars, twenty paces from the wall. “Don’t stop,” Alkei gasped. “Keep running.”

* * *

Sunrise painted the walls of Gerudo Town in bright pinks and oranges. Link led them around to the back of the city, where there was an opening in the sandstone. He called out for the Gerudo chieftain by name and she appeared soon after, ordering her guard to pull up first Link and then, at his insistence, Alkei as well.

Barta’s guards were told to stand down and redouble security around the town. Alkei and Link were given a room hidden from the townspeople’s view. They were bandaged, stitched, and fed, and given simple clothes before being left alone for the day.

“I’m heading to Vah Naboris with Riju tomorrow,” Link finally said, breaking the long, exhausted silence that had stretched between them ever since the last of Riju’s servants had left. He was lying on a pile of cushions on the floor, staring intently at an apple as he cut unnecessarily small bites off of it.

“Are you sure you’re up for that?”

“I’d understand if you didn’t want to wait.”

Alkei looked over at him from his place sprawled out on the bed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re probably being hunted by the Yiga Clan now.”

“So are you.” He wasn’t sure what this had to do with him waiting.

“And I wasn’t very… at the bazaar…” He trailed off, working his jaw and cutting another infinitesimal piece off of the apple. He was obviously fighting to speak. “What I mean is that you don’t have to travel with me. If you don’t want to.”

“...do you want me to?”

“To?”

“Leave.”

He cut another piece off of the apple. Examined it. Pressed it between his fingers until it disintegrated. “...no.”

“Good.”

“Good?”

“I want to keep traveling with you.”

“...what about Ganon?”

He laughed, short and shallow. “He’s probably got a personal grudge against me by now.”

Link chuckled. “I suspect I’m in the same boat.”

“So why not, right? We can watch each other’s backs.”

“Hm.” Link smiled thoughtfully. “I’d like that.”

They fell silent, the soft rush of water from the city’s aqueducts coming in through the open windows. The light had turned golden, ushering in the first cool breeze of evening. How had the day gone by so quickly? Alkei could hardly remember most of it.

“If you really think you can take on Vah Naboris tomorrow, you should get some rest,” he said.

Link looked over at him, a bemused smile on his lips. “What, you’re not going to insist on coming with?”

Alkei waved a hand vaguely at the ceiling. “I think if I tried to do anything for the next week, Spoone would track me down and skin me. Maybe next time.” He pushed himself up, every muscle in his body screaming. “I’ll let you have the bed.”

A piece of apple smacked him across the cheek. “Lay back down. You need it more than I do.”

He was tempted to argue, but he was too tired. Instead, he grabbed a blanket from the foot of the bed, throwing it into Link’s face. “Fine. Just don’t freeze, alright? It gets cold out here.”

“I spent most of last night walking in the desert,” Link grumbled, unfolding the blanket. “I’m aware of how cold it gets.”

* * *

They left early the next morning to meet Riju at the lookout post. It was a small structure, one that the Yiga Clan had never paid much mind to.

“Are you sure you feel up to this?” Alkei asked as they neared the post. “You still haven’t healed entirely -”

“Alkei.”

“What about your arm? I saw it yesterday. Do you think it’ll -”

 _“Alkei.”_ Link bumped him lightly on the elbow. “When did you become such a mother hen?”

“I am _not_ a mother hen.” He managed to keep most of the indignation out of his voice. “It’s just that everyone who hates me hates you more. If you die, I’m in trouble.”

Link laughed brightly. “Oh, if that’s all. I promise I won’t leave you without a meat shield, okay?”

“You better not. And bring a souvenir back for Ami while you’re at it, will you?”

“You’re being really demanding today, you know that?”

“You said you wanted me to travel with you.”

“Don’t make me regret it.”

From the lookout post, Riju waved at them. Link waved back, his smile fading a bit.

Alkei caught him by the wrist just before they crossed onto the rock platform the lookout post was built upon.

“I don’t just want you for protection,” he said. “You were… You’re my first friend, you know.”

For a moment, Link just stared at him with a look of mild shock. Then he smiled. “In a way, you were mine too.” He clasped Alkei’s uninjured shoulder. “I’ll be fine. I promise.”

Alkei watched Link and Riju discuss their plans from afar. Watched them ride off into the storm, Link turning to wave at him. Watched as the raging mass of sand swallowed them up.

An hour later, Riju emerged from the storm alone.

“He got in alright,” she said, pulling the Thunder Helm off her head. “Are you ready to head back?”

“I think I’ll stay,” he said.

Riju gave him an understanding look. “I’ll have someone send out food and blankets.”

She left him on that rock, staring out into the sandstorm, listening to the lightning strikes and the rhythmic _THUD-THUD… THUD-THUD_ of Vah Naboris’ gigantic feet. The sun arced across the sky, the outpost’s long shadow slowly drawing a circle on the sand like the hand of a clock counting hour after hour.

It was just growing dark, and the first chilled winds were sweeping down from the highland mountains, when the sandstorm began to die down.

Alkei shot to his feet, blanket falling to the rock below him. Slowly, the highland winds picked up the sand and started to blow it away. In the distance, he could make out the shadow of Vah Naboris heading towards Spectacle Rock.

And there, in its wake, was a smaller shadow.

He ran to it.

Link had a terrible bloody slash across his chest that nearly made Alkei’s heart stop when he first spotted it. But he seemed to be walking just fine. When he saw Alkei, he smiled and waved. He was holding up a metal circle, pulsing with a soft orange light. “I got a souvenir!” he yelled, before doubling over and hacking out a mouthful of sand that had flown into his face.

“Are you okay?” Alkei yelled back, careful to pull his shirt over his mouth before he did so.

“Just some sand!” Link said, still doubled over.

Alkei reached him, putting a gentle hand on his back and urging him forward. “I meant the giant cut on your chest, Link.”

“Oh, that.” Link spat out the last of the sand. “It just looks bad. I jumped out of the way before it could do any real damage. But look!” He pressed a button on the metal circle, and jagged plates of blue energy shot out from it.

Alkei jumped. “What _is_ that?”

“It’s a shield! I got it from the phantom Ganon left in the divine beast.”

“You’re giving Ami a cursed shield?” He moved Link’s arm so that the shield was blocking the last remnants of the sandstorm from hitting them.

“It’s not _cursed,”_ Link said indignantly. “I had a little sister, you know. I know how to handle kids.”

“You had a little sister?” The concept was a bit foreign to him, having grown up as just one of many trainees, but he’d managed to pick up enough about Hylian families to grasp the basic idea.

Link stopped walking, frowning at the ground. “I… had a sister.” A big grin broke upon his face. “I had a sister!” He looked up at Alkei, and the grin turned teasing. “You planning on killing me for it?”

Alkei snorted. “Not until we get your chest sewn up. Come on, let’s get you back to Gerudo Town.”

“Ah, spared another day!”

“Shut up.”

They finally emerged from the last of the storm, and Link put the shield away. The moon hung high and bright in the sky, turning the desert silver with its light. It was quiet, nothing but their footsteps and the quiet shushing of wind blowing over the crests of dunes.

“Hey, Alkei?” Link said, his voice ringing out in the still night

“What?”

“Thanks for waiting.”

He looked down at Link, and a smile slipped unbidden onto his lips.

“Of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU EVERYONE FOR READING!!!!! i made this into a series just because i know im gonna end up missing alkei eventually, so sub to that if you wanna see more i guess??? and of course if you wanna snag alkei and use him in your own stuff then GO FOR IT! all i ask is that you add this fic as an inspiration or comment somewhere or something. bottom line, do something thatll make your fic pop up in my email because i wanna SEE IT!!!
> 
> anyways i would like to thank my dear lovely beta reader unluckycharm for all their help and encouragement, and also everyone commenting and leaving kudos!!! this is the longest fic ive written so far and youve all been such a great source of motivation for actually finishing it! thank you again for all your support!!!! ;v;


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